The Battle of Teutoburg Forest
by Phineas Redux
Summary: Xena, Gabrielle, and Otrera fight the Roman Legions with the help of Germanic tribal warriors
1. Chapter 1

**The Battle of Teutoburg Forest**

**Explanatory Note**

The Battle of Teutoburg Forest did take place in 9AD, and 3 Roman Legions were destroyed by an alliance of German tribes under the leadership of Arminius. In my story, apart from Arminius, Segestes and the major Roman officers, all other characters are fictional.

I have speeded up events at the start and finish of the debacle, though the actual struggle in the forest is described more or less as it happened. With the inclusion of Xena, and Gabrielle with her Amazons, this tale must be regarded as fiction; not an exact historical re-construction.

—OOO—

Enter these enchanted woods,

You who dare.

Nothing harms beneath the leaves

Only at a dread of dark . . .

Thousand eyeballs under hoods

Have you by the hair.

Enter these enchanted woods,

You who dare.

'The Woods of Westermain'. George Meredith.

—OOO—

**Fair Warning**

Chapter 1.

**Xena's Preparations**

Xena sat her horse on a slight eminence that gave a view over the open grassland stretching away along the forest's flank. The trees were mostly low-growing oaks, elms and firs mingled together. The forest could not be said to be thick; no individual tree was more than a man's chest in width or about forty feet in height, but it had the advantage of covering a vast area, stretching in all directions as far as the eye could see. The general terrain consisted of a series of low rolling hills interspersed with flat heaths that were mostly covered with pines. The ground there was swampy underfoot; more so in the aftermath of the bad weather which had been prevailing for the past weeks.

This, however, had melded perfectly with the pre-arranged plans worked out in such detail over the last few months. The mud and swamps of this part of the forest were now an active element in the martial plans of the many Germanic tribes so carefully hidden amongst the trees. Defensive barriers had been constructed; earthen walls thrown up with barricades atop; the very lie of the land brought into use; all tribal chiefs given clear instructions on their actions; every conceivable aspect of the plan discussed and decided so that now everything was ready, and all the thousands of tribal warriors and Amazons knew exactly what their duty was: to destroy the Roman Legions utterly and without mercy from the face of the earth!

For into this seemingly benign forest landscape would soon be appearing not one, nor two, but three Roman Legions with their accompanying Cohorts of auxiliary troops, Alae's of cavalry, and assorted camp-followers; for the Governor of Upper Germania, Publius Quinctilius Varus, was preparing to uproot his command from its Summer fort in the West and retreat South to his Winter camp: and he had chosen to do so in a most unprofessional manner!

Another woman sat her horse beside Xena. This was Serilda, one of the warrior leaders of the Cherusci tribe; of which Arminius was a Chief. She was acting as second-in-command to the famous warrior-woman at this moment. Both looked down over the rolling grass stretching out to the horizon.

"Nice ambush territory!" Xena nodded happily. "Uneven ground; lots of copses; swamp everywhere; and hills to attack from. Yeah, I like it!"

"Then there's the forest itself." Serilda turned to smile at the tall warrior by her side. "Extensive, and useful as a defence: hides our movements well! Great place for those earth ramparts you had built!"

Serilda herself was only a couple of inches shorter than Xena. About 30 years of age, she had thick brown hair twisted in long plaits falling over her shoulders, and a cloth band round her forehead. Like Xena beside her she wore a heavy woollen jerkin; loose cloth trousers tied at her waist with a thick leather belt, and long boots just like the men; so that from a distance it was impossible to tell either Xena or her from the other soldiers. In this Germanic army there were many other women just like Serilda taking their place, on an even footing, amongst the male warriors.

"That was Arminius's idea; I only oversaw the construction." Xena smiled at her companion. "They'll work well, I think."

"Yes." Serilda agreed with a grin. "Then, with our long spears, we'll have the advantage over them! Their bows won't be much use among the trees. They're not close-set; but enough to stop a fusillade of arrows easily."

"It all depends on Arminius being able to convince Varus of the reality of this supposed uprising." Xena frowned as she looked round at her companion. "If he can't do that—then everything falls to the ground!"

Serilda considered this silently, without attempting any answer. It was the mainstay of the whole plan. That Arminius, even at the present moment fully in the confidence of the Roman General Varus, could persuade him that an uprising was taking place in the East of the province was the crux on which absolutely everything depended. If he succeeded then the German plan would swing into operation; if he failed, there was no way out and Arminius's position as a revered leader of the Cherusci tribe would be severely dented, if not destroyed completely. Segestes, his young wife's father, would have been proven to be correct with his repeated warnings of Arminius's treachery and the Legions would be safely withdrawn from the danger area, to fight another day. The thought of this possible outcome had been giving Serilda, and other German warriors, sleepless nights over the past week or so.

"There's nothing we can do about that, Xena!" Serilda took comfort in the only outlook possible in the circumstances. "With Arminius out of contact among the Romans, we just have to hope for the best; and prepare for success!"

"Yeah, you're right, Serilda!" Xena nodded. "Keep everybody's spirits high, and sing of victory round the campfires at night!"

Xena herself was somewhat doubtful that such a plan could have much chance; but she had seen how emotionally involved the German warriors were, and had put all her sense of purpose into helping with the preparations over the last few weeks.

"The one good point is that the only feasible route; once Varus takes the bait from Arminius and heads East, is round the Northern edge of the Kalkriese Ridge." Serilda smiled at the prospect. "There's only a strip about one hundred yards wide between the hill-slope and the swamp at the edge of the forest oaks! And we've built the earth-wall twelve feet high and nearly ten stadia long! If we can surprise the Romans there, we can't fail to slaughter them!"

"Yeah, that's the plan!" Xena was never one for counting her chickens before they'd hatched. "When Arminius leaves Varus he'll head slightly North; meet up with your battalion of warriors; then circle round to come up on the Roman Fort near the Wiehen river. He and you both attack and destroy it; along with the Cohort of legionaries from Legion XVII, and the accompanying Cohort of auxiliaries, that have been stationed there. They're meant to be moving out to rejoin Varus before he enters the Teutoburg Forest proper; but we aim to see that never happens! It will be another weakening of Varus's forces, before the main battle even begins!"

"All these small events; all of which need to be successful! It's trusting to luck a lot, ain't it, Xena?" Serilda was not used to the detailed planning necessary to ensure success in a major conflict between large opposing armies; and she struggled to understand the immense detailed preparations necessary for a triumphant outcome. "Gods! I've never seen such a throng of warriors, all in one vast group before!"

"Don't worry, Serilda!" Xena smiled quietly at the woman by her side. "Arminius is a fine leader; and I've had some experience in these matters myself! You'll be surrounded by your own warriors when you go into action. And these affairs tend to break up into small intense local actions! It'll be like any other fight you've been in; either with other German tribes, or whatever clashes you've fought in against smaller Roman units! It'll pan out fine, you'll see! When I see the Legions coming through the woods where my warriors are stationed, then we'll know the bait's been swallowed! How many of your Cherusci warriors are here?"

"About 2,000, Xena!" Serilda had the numbers at her finger-tips; having trained and harangued them over the last six months in readiness. "They're in the woods behind us now. There's also another 2,500 Germanic warriors from the Bructeri, Sicambri, Chauci and other tribes in this section. They've moulded together very well, after some initial grumbling and head-splitting! But you know that; you did some of the head-splitting yourself, if I remember rightly!"

"Gotta let 'em know who's boss!" Xena laughed in recollection. "Kick the trouble-maker's asses hard enough and they'll follow you anywhere! An old trick I learned in Thessaly! Come, let's take a look at 'em!"

They turned their mounts and slowly descended the low hill till they were once more under the shadow of the spreading forest again. Here they dismounted; leaving their horses in the care of a group of warriors awaiting them. Xena led the way forward till they emerged onto an open grassy heath that was almost a wide plain. Here there were many tents and temporary stockades for horses, and palisades where various wagons were held. Milling all around were the massed ranks of part of the main army of Arminius's alliance.

The several thousands of warriors visible, milling in quiet groups around their makeshift canvas tents, were almost all members of the various Germanic tribes scattered across Northern Germania. There were representatives of the old-established alliance of the Suebi, as well as a newer mixture of tribes who had come together at Arminius's call. What they all had in common was a heartfelt desire to see the Roman invaders thrown out of their country; and they now had the white-hot spark of resistance glowing in their hearts under Arminius's command.

Staring around her Xena could easily tell these numerous warriors; all in traditional blue woollen capes and trousers, their long hair blowing in the wind, were all set for action. Even though not in battle readiness at the moment many hundreds still walked about with the long-hafted spears they called frema under their arms. These weapons had ten-foot shafts, with a short very sharp blade. The warriors were experts with this apparently ungainly instrument and could easily hold their own against any attacker. The weapons, surprisingly, had been found to be excellent against the usual Roman short sword; when brandished by a well-trained German tribal warrior. Xena had seen them in training; tried the weapon herself, and been well-pleased with its qualities. She knew that, given a fair chance at close quarters with their Roman opponents, these Germanic warriors could wreak havoc.

"The other warriors are pretty evenly spread out along the barrier line." Serilda scratched her chin as she stood beside Xena, going over the lay-out in her mind. "The next two sections on our right-hand are held by a mix of the Germanic Suebi tribal warriors; Marcomanni, Naristi, Anglii, Langobardi and some others; and Gabrielle's Amazon alliance."

"Gabrielle's with her Chalcidice warriors over to the East; back in the forest, ready to harass and drive the Legions in the right direction once the attack begins." Xena mused out loud as she reflected on the set-up. "She has Otrera and her Torrequa Amazons spread out through the woods along the route Varus will initially be bringing his troops towards us."

"Yes." Serilda turned to the Greek warrior with a wide grin. "Those Amazons are wonderful among the trees! I've been on some training exercises with them, as you know. It's just amazing how they can blend in with the green and brown of the undergrowth and trees. Disappear as if they weren't there; and yet be standing almost on top of you!"

"I know, it can be frightening when you're not used to it!" Xena laughed. "Gave me a shock when they did it to me the first time! Hopefully the Romans won't know what's hit 'em; and be scared outta their pants!"

"Ha! It's a thought!" Serilda gave a chuckle as she glanced all round again. The women stood here amongst one of the larger sections of warriors, some 4,500 in all; though several other groups, just as strong, were located at various places along the extended defensive line of the trail it was hoped Varus would be taking through the forest

Xena had struggled long and hard to instil the capacity to melt into the background among the many warriors; and had succeeded more than she first thought possible. Gabrielle and Otrera between them had also provided expert knowledge to the German warriors on this matter, at a level which had amazed even Xena. She had been out in the woods with Gabrielle on a training mission just a few days previously, during which she had seen for herself Gabrielle's capability in forest-work. That night; lying by her campfire under her blanket, Xena had shed some quiet tears of pride for her Amazon lover!

"So, this is the morning that Varus is meant to start his trek." Xena looked across at her companion. "I just hope Arminius can keep the bluff going! It's incredible that he is still in Varus's good books, considering that devil Segestes has been so active in berating him to Varus!"

"Arminius has been so long in Rome's good favour; and Segestes' personal vendetta against him is so well-known to everyone, Varus just can't bring himself to believe he could be a traitor." Serilda shrugged her shoulders and adjusted the strap of the metal helmet she wore. "Good thing for us!"

"I hope Varus falls for this tale about the uprising!" Xena shook her head, as she kept an eye on the busy scene surrounding them. "Are you quite sure he'll take this particular route along Kalkriese Ridge?"

"There isn't another that's feasible!" Serilda spoke firmly, in emphasis of what she said. "I know there's only just a wide enough track for his soldiers to travel along here, between the Ridge and the swampy forest; but if he decided to go further south he'd have to skirt the Ridge, enter a thicker stretch of forest and cross several valleys that would seriously slow his army's movements. He'll come this way, have no fear!"

"I have no fear, Serilda!" Xena smiled grimly. "Just determination! You know, of course, we must slaughter these soldiers? This isn't just any battle: this must be the _last_ battle! No-one on the Roman side survives, except as a prisoner! This is our one—our single—chance. We must take it!"

"Don't worry, Xena!" Serilda, on her part, smiled coldly. "I can guarantee my German warriors are unforgiving and relentless. There won't be any mercy shown to anyone. What my people want is Roman blood; and they will have it, at all costs!"

—OOO—

**The Roman Camp**

**Segestes and Varus**

"Why does no one of you Romans believe me!" Segestes stood on the short grass before the wide canvas tent and waved a closed fist in frustration. His long dark hair blowing in the morning breeze. "Arminius is a traitor! He means to rebel against Rome, and take control of the province for himself. I know it!"

"Nonsense!" Beside the irate German the heavy stolid figure of the Roman General Varus stood as firm as a Legionary Eagle Standard in the Campus Martius. "Arminius is my friend. I have known him since he was a child. He is soaked in Rome; _is_ a Roman; he has been given the honour of Roman citizenship! You do yourself no good by continuing with these worthless allegations, Segestes! Everyone knows he took his wife, your daughter, by force from under your nose; and you can't forgive him for that enterprise! You really must let it go! And this is not the time or place for these accusations! I have other things to attend to! You may have noticed that in a few hours I shall be heading my Legions out to march to our Winter camp in the South? Three Legions, Segestes! As well as six Cohorts of auxiliaries! I have the might of Rome under my command, and I have to lead the whole army South through these damned Germanic forests and swamps! An army amounting to some twenty thousand people! I have more to think about than stupid rumours!"

Segestes shook his head in frustration. He had, for the last few months, been trying to warn General Varus; and almost any other Roman official he could cajole into a corner, about his deeply felt suspicions of the man who had so arrogantly taken his young daughter from him. But no-one would listen, believing him to simply be another German tribal leader pursuing a personal vendetta against a Roman officer. For Arminius had been under the influence of Rome for so long he was now widely regarded _as_ a Roman.

"So you will not listen?" Segestes virtually snarled the words. Another aspect of his personality which did not enhance his standing among the Romans was his abrupt nature. He had long given up offering the Romans the respect they obviously expected from such as he. That this decreased his status in their eyes was something which he had never been able to understand.

"I am listening now; and I have listened before!" Varus turned from the German warrior to signal to an approaching officer. "That is the trouble, Segestes! Your story has lost its interest; yet you insist on repeating it ad nauseam! It really is too much to expect a Roman to listen to insinuations of that nature without any evidence at all! However, I have things to do! I shall see Arminius later this morning! I will return to bid you farewell before you leave, Segestes!"

The General walked off beside the young officer who had joined him, and was soon lost amongst the crowds of uniformed soldiers milling everywhere in the bustling camp. For, although everything was ready for their departure, the Legionaries were in that state of initial excitement common to enterprises such as this just before the final orders were given. Segestes moodily strode back towards his own tent as another German warrior came up to march beside him.

"Varus refuses to see what is in front of his eyes, Ataulf!" Segestes looked at the seasoned warrior, who was his second-in-command. "There is nothing more I can do. Let us ready our men to head South-West. Varus doesn't want us. And I don't want to be in Varus's boots when he takes his Legions out on the march. Arminius has something planned; I am sure of it! I don't want to be with Varus when it happens. The man is a fool! He doesn't even intend to lead his Legions in battle-order! Can you believe that? I leave him to his own devices; may the Gods be with him! Well, Ataulf, I'd better see to organising our own warriors, if we want to be out of this mess before the morning's over! Come, let's be on our way!"

—OOO—

**Arminius and Varus**

An hour later, across the nearly dismantled camp, Varus stood by the side of a tall clean-shaven young Roman; except that this was not a Roman but a full-blooded German warrior. Arminius, through his many years under Roman influence; and his determination to fall in with his mentor's ways and methods, had long since been accepted as an almost true Roman. This was what he had worked all his adult life for; and it would have shocked every Roman who knew him at all well to know he had been plotting the demise of his hated hosts for several years. Only Segestes spoke out against him with any resolve; and Segestes's personal antagonism towards Arminius was so well known throughout Rome it made his every insult and accusation a laughing matter.

"So, Arminius! This supposed uprising! I am glad you came to me yesterday evening to inform me about what your chiefs had heard from the Eastern Province! Some stupidity on the part of the people there. I shall have to change my route to check the matter. What have you new to tell?" Varus hooked a thumb in the belt of his uniform jerkin and eased the tight silver-plated breast-plate he already wore in preparation for the coming trek. "I need any details you can give me. It is a long way through the forest; and a severe march for my Legions. You have a sure and safe course for my army to follow?"

"Aye. This is the country of my tribe, the Cherusci. In the present circumstances I'd advise heading towards the Kalkriese Ridge then marching alongside it for about 2 parasangs, before veering North-East again." Arminius stroked his chin in thought as the two men walked side-by-side through the groups of soldiers and camp-followers milling all round. "There is some rough, perhaps swampy, terrain to pass through; but you will quickly reach a more open part of the forest that is far better for marching. As for information—I have spoken again with my tribal chiefs who came from the East a day or so ago. They all say a number of the smaller tribes there have rebelled and called for others to join their cause. I am just unhappy that I will not be able to accompany you myself on this first section!"

"Do not worry, Arminius." Varus gave a short laugh as he took the young man's wrist in his powerful hand for a moment. "I am glad your sources were good enough to bring this matter to light. Better to deal with it straightaway, than let it fester for weeks or months before I could address it properly! Your suggestion of taking your Ala of cavalry to rally whatever German tribal warriors you can collect in the immediate area is a good one. It will save me releasing an ala of my own; or worse still, ordering one of my cohorts of auxiliaries out on scouting work! When do you expect to return?"

"Probably in three days, General." Arminius smiled slightly at the heavy-set man by his side. "It may take some time to assemble however many warriors I can locate in this district who wish to follow you. But this uprising is nothing to worry about; they are all mere tribes-people over in the East, not real warriors. It is a mere angry mob, letting off steam; nothing more!"

"Still, it is slowing my progress a great deal." Varus growled unhappily. "Make a good sweep through the forest. Find out all you can. The more tribal warriors you can rally to my Standard the better! I expect you back in three days then! Go! Make your preparations. I shall see you again before you leave. May the Gods be with you!"

—OOO—

**Discord in the Ranks**

**Numonius Valla and Lucius Caedicius**

The Legatus Numonius Valla had problems of his own; problems that were growing, at least in his own mind, with every passing day. Nominally in charge of the army of three Legions and six Cohorts of auxiliaries who backed Varus's presence in Germania, he was in fact outranked by Varus who had always made it clearly known that he, as Governor, commanded the Legions and directed their actions. Varus had that most Roman of beliefs; that if you had the Legions in the palm of your hand you were all the safer from rebellion and assassination. So Varus kept firm control of the Legions under his power and made sure the Legatus, nominal head of the army, was never given enough freedom to feel comfortable.

Things were made worse by the fact that Numonius was a soldier's soldier. He believed in the military excellence of the Roman legionary over any other warrior in the known world. And the basis of this superiority lay in discipline, constant exercise and organisation. Varus, on the other hand, was not much more than a Senatorial amateur. In Numonius's eyes the Governor had a shockingly lax outlook to both military exercise and planning. As far as Numonius could tell Varus had only the slightest grasp of military manoeuvring: as Governor in the civil sense he may have been adequate, but as a military leader he had little knowledge; and far too much bravado. As a Roman Senator and Governor; and de facto General of three Legions, he was boastful egoistic and self-opinionated in a way that made the other regular officers in the army constantly come to whisper words of censure in Numonius's ear in the dark of the night. And now with this trek East, under Varus's direct command, Numonius was reaching the final stages of his resentment towards the pompous fool.

In the movement of an army as strong as the present force under Varus's command there was an established format for operations. This usually meant having the various segments of the army separated into their single units and marching in an organised pre-planned group. The traditional method would be to have some auxiliaries and mounted archers acting as scouts, often a parasang or more to the west or east and ahead of the main force. Then would come the advance-guard of the marching army, a Legion generally supported by an Ala of cavalry. Behind these forward soldiers would be a force of Pioneers who would make preliminary improvements to the route for the following troops; chopping down trees, and clearing a position for the next camping area and so on. Then, at a little distance behind, would come the Legatus or General in command, with his group of servants and camp-followers travelling with the baggage of the General and other officers. There would follow behind this a unit of cavalry of about 250 men or so belonging to the other two Legions; then the second part of the baggage-train with more camp-followers, after which would come the Staff officers and Eagle Standards. Behind these would appear the main force; the two remaining Legions marching in close ranks at a military pace and under strict discipline. In the rear of this force would come the third and final part of the baggage-train containing the equipment and personal items and food of the mass of legionary soldiers. Finally, would be the rear-guard of a couple of hundred mixed soldiers and auxiliaries to hold the line safely at that point. Commanders usually tried to make sure the entire column did not extend longer than a single parasang or so in length, for safety's sake.

That, at least, was the accepted method long used by every serving Roman military commander of any expertise at all. But Varus was different. He had a swollen opinion of his capability in all areas, civil and military, which tended to colour his decisions and practices in these circumstances. In the present situation he had made it known from the outset he had no patience with this regulated disciplined plan. That such a course would mean discomfort for him and a great deal of extra work which he refused to countenance. He commanded, therefore, that the army should march during the whole trek through the extended forests, in an un-ranked mass. The Legions should mingle with the baggage-train; the camp-followers should disperse through-out the army; and the several Alae of cavalry should not keep ranks, but ride mingled with the auxiliaries and legionaries. Neither should the baggage-train, with all its multitude of equipment, keep together; but everyone should mingle as they saw fit in the massed crowd of people as they all marched together. This would mean that; in the country they were about to traverse, the line of the column could extend for as much as three parasangs along the winding forest trail; perhaps much longer.

For Numonius this appalling amateurishness was the last straw. It spoke of a foolishness bordering on madness. If he had been sure of a sufficient force behind him he would have rebelled, deposed the fool of a Governor, and sent to Rome for instructions. But he had no concerted followers; he had never been one for plotting behind the back of his superiors and now he was alone with an idiot in charge of a Roman army's trek through probable enemy territory, with no recourse in his hands. If he made his opposition clear to Varus, the Governor might very well think that an execution would do no more than add to his reputation for strict and harsh rule! Numonius was powerless; outranked; distrusted by Varus; and could not tell anymore which officers were with him, and which were vassals of the General! Numonius was an angry, frustrated man; and his anger was building to a climax.

This was not helped by the presence of another military officer over whom he had no confirmed power. Lucius Caedicius was the Prefect of the military camp at Alisi, in the North-West of the Province, and had joined Varus with an Ala of some 500 cavalry-men which the General was happy to add temporarily to his military strength. Lucius had been more or less forced into this action by quiet, but determined, suggestions from Varus himself. Varus always liked to impress his power on those under his control, and the present vast movement of his troops gave him the perfect excuse to co-opt Lucius's forces to the greater glory of the Roman army; whether Lucius agreed with the policy or otherwise! So, happy or not, Lucius was here with his 500 cavalry; while Varus had, in a sop to the young Prefect, made it known that he would not be under Numonius's control, but was a free agent in his own right, under Varus's orders. The troubled Legatus was not a happy man.

As Numonius; a stocky round-headed man with close-cropped hair and sunburnt skin, rode amongst the legionaries as they prepared to march out he saw riding towards him this latest nemesis in his life; Lucius Caedicius himself. A moment later they reined up beside each other.

Lucius was in his early thirties and of a sturdy build. He had a strong jaw that spoke of determination, and had a light in his eyes which easily quailed soldiers who suffered his anger.

"Ah, Legatus!" Lucius spoke firmly as he sat his mount beside the officer. "Something of a confusion all round us this morning, eh? But no doubt it will all turn out right. I notice Legion XVII is not forming at the vanguard of the column! Is there a reason? I thought you would be leading the front as we set out?"

"Varus made his dispositions for the trek quite plain last night at his meeting, Caedicius!" Numonius almost spat the words out. He knew perfectly well the jumped-up Prefect was merely irritating him deliberately. "There is to be no formal arrangement of the troops on this expedition; as you well know!"

"I still can't believe it!" Lucius shook his head in true disbelief. "I did hear him, yes; but I never expected such an amateurish disposition to actually take place! Can't you reason with the General?"

"He is the Governor of the Province, and as such outranks me!" Numonius had explained this before, and was not pleased at having to repeat it. "General Varus goes his own way. I would not suggest you try to cajole him into changing his plans: you may find he is rather unforgiving of criticism! Or perhaps I shouldn't warn you!"

"Legatus! Such frostiness!" The young Prefect laughed in the face of the slightly older man. "So I must look out for myself in this throng of legionaries and back-stabbers, eh! But I had already surmised as much for myself!"

Lucius had developed a strong dislike for the Legatus over the few weeks he had been in his company. The fact that Numonius took his ill-temper out on his subordinates at every opportunity had not escaped Lucius, and he thanked Providence that he was not under the man's direct command. At least Varus had managed to make one good decision that had gone in the Prefect's favour; probably more by luck than any reasoning on Varus's part!

"If you want to be in Varus's good books, try asking him to let you take your cavalry out on a scouting run!" Numonius snorted in contempt as he turned his horse's head to ride off towards the supposed head of the column. "See how far that gets you! Ha!"

Lucius watched the figure of the Legatus disappear amidst the crowd of other riders, wagons, and mixed groups of cavalry and soldiers. Glancing about him the Prefect could see for himself that, instead of a disciplined organised column, there was the beginnings of a mere rabble forming. Even a plain cavalry soldier such as he could see this ill-ordered mass of assorted camp-followers, legionaries, auxiliaries, and supposed road-pioneers was a disaster waiting to happen. He scratched his head as he tried to understand the reasoning which had made Varus think such a disposition of his forces; on such a dangerous trek, could have any kind of logical sense. But he failed; as he had done last night on first hearing in disbelief the General's proposed plan.

Once more he thanked Providence he was able to hold his ala of cavalry together on his own terms. Something told him, as he turned to ride back to his troops some way down the unformed line of people, that keeping his force in a tight disciplined formation would be the most important task before him over the coming days.

—OOO—

**Amazon Preparations**

Gabrielle had placed the majority of her forces deep in the forest some way to the West of the winding Kalkriese Ridge. The trees here were in no way comparable to the enormous thickly-set giants of the Northern forests, but they did give cover over a wide area. The trees spread out for parasangs in every direction; intermingled with low hills, heaths, broad tracts of swamp, and the occasional line of higher hills forming barriers to easy progress for all but the most determined traveller.

At the moment she sat on the stump of a freshly fallen tree, the trunk of which lay along the ground beside her. Next to her stood the tall figure of an Amazon, looking down at her with one hand clasped in her leather belt. They were both dressed in deerskin trousers and jerkins, with steel helmets of the type used by Roman auxiliaries.

"Let's be sure we have everything sorted." Gabrielle glanced up at the other Greek woman as she continued idly passing a flat stone over the blade of the short sword she clasped on her lap. "My warriors are well-placed along the route leading to the Ridge. We can follow Varus when he arrives; then join in when the attack begins. And you?"

"My warriors are further up towards the ridge escarpment, as we agreed." Otrera smiled thinly as she went over the disposition of her Amazons in her mind. "The Calessi group are mainly near the ridge itself, while my Torrequa Amazons are spread out along the barricaded trail, manning the earthwork barrier; along with the various tribal warriors who'll eventually be under Arminius's command when he arrives."

"That's good." Gabrielle nodded, shrugging her shoulders a little under the chainmail shirt that covered her chest. This was another item from the equipment that had come with Arminius's alliance of mostly battle-hardened warriors; many of whom had served at one time or another as Roman auxiliaries, and had retained their kit. "You've done well in training your two tribes of Amazons to work together efficiently over the past year. They'll do fine over the next few days."

"Thanks. Yes, I have confidence in them." The brown-haired woman moved slightly to the side of the seated Amazon Queen. "They've mingled well. Almost one tribe, now. Hopefully this'll be the exploit that moulds them together once and for all."

Gabrielle gazed around the small clearing. There were some three or four hundred or so warriors milling about, sorting out weapons and making sure of last minute changes. They were mostly Amazons, but a large contingent of Germanic warriors had arrived to strengthen this particular section and the men were making jokes and amusing themselves quietly in converse with the women. The Amazons, on their side, gave as good as they received and Gabrielle could hear all round the muted laughter as they all got to know each other. She was glad that the Germans, in particular, had blended so easily with the sudden influx of women. But, as she had quickly come to realise, these grizzled veterans of years of fighting all knew professional warriors when they saw them; and the army which Gabrielle and Otrera had brought North contained the best women-warriors from the tribes under each's rule.

"All your section-leaders know the signals?" Gabrielle believed in making sure of the most insignificant detail in such matters; even if she had to repeat herself often.

"Yes, my Queen, they know the colours of the signal-flags and each of the horn notes." Otrera glanced round at the crowds of warmly clad warriors under the trees. "They are ready, and willing!"

Both women looked out over the wide glade at the variety of warriors. Most of the men wore the ordinary woollen shirts, jerkins and trousers of the Germanic tribes; the Amazons were generally clad in a mix of deerskin leggings and loose long-sleeved tops; while many other of the Germans sported various pieces of Roman equipment from their days as auxiliaries. Some had helmets; some breast-plates; others linen or woollen clothing of markedly Roman origin; while a few were so well equipped they looked exactly like Roman legionaries.

These latter had created a problem for Gabrielle and Otrera in that they had to find some way to make clear that they were not, in fact, Roman. In the end Gabrielle had gone with the idea of wrapping a thin length of blue-dyed linen round their left arm. This, accompanied by the fact they all had the long hair and beards of the German warrior-tribes, would hopefully be enough to distinguish them in the heat of battle.

Gabrielle put her sword aside and rose to stand beside her second-in-command. Her blonde hair and complexion made a strong contrast with the sunburnt and dark-haired woman beside her; but they stood together as friends and comrades, whose closeness had been forged in the heat of battle and hard times. As such they knew and respected each other's character and expertise.

Gabrielle looked high into the sky, easily seen through the thin widely placed trees. There was no difficulty in viewing the clouds and trying to forecast the weather prospects; unlike the more familiar thickly-set forests of Northern Greece where it was often impossible to see the sky at all!

"Grey and overcast. Just one big, wide-spreading cloud! And raining again!" Gabrielle grunted in disgust and clapped her arms together in an attempt to feel warm. "It's chilly, too! You'd think it was the middle of Winter already, instead of just the end of Summer!"

"Yeah! We ain't used to this climate." Otrera nodded glumly as she too tried to make herself feel as if her feet weren't cold and clammy. "Damp, and muddy, and swamp everywhere!"

"Well, Xena and Serilda are having the same trouble where they are further North." Gabrielle laughed at the thought of the renowned warrior-woman standing under a tree and swearing at the weather. "I can just see her now! Wouldn't like to be within earshot!"

The young German tribes-woman, Serilda, had proved to be a great asset. At first Gabrielle had been somewhat reserved about her role so close to Xena; but a few weeks training with her had shown the German to be a sharp intelligent warrior. When Serilda had confided to Gabrielle, one evening, the fact that she was at present unhappy because she was so far divided from her boy-friend; who was attached to a warrior-group further East along the prepared line of defence, Gabrielle began to feel much more at ease with the woman! She was jerked out of this reflection by Otrera's continuing with the weather topic again.

"Do you know, my Queen, I had to lead my last battalion of warriors almost ten stadia to the North to circumvent a swamp that appeared on our route that wasn't there a month ago!"

"I believe you!" Gabrielle nodded, frowning a little as she brought her attention back to the crowds of warriors all round them. "But Xena seems to think it'll work out in our favour, in the long run! Apparently the worse the conditions become underfoot, the greater chance Varus will lead his army along the Kalkriese Ridge trail! It'll be the only viable route leading him in the direction he needs to go!"

"The earth ramparts we've built along the edge of that trail certainly took enough effort." Otrera shrugged her shoulders as they started walking back towards the long canvas tent which served Gabrielle as her temporary headquarters. "It'll be a blow if Varus heads somewhere else!"

"He won't!" Gabrielle smiled grimly as she looked at her companion. "I have every confidence in Arminius's powers of persuasion! This is the only really likely trail; and Varus is an idiot as far as military tactics go, that's obvious to anyone who knows him! He'll head this way, have no fear! Come, time to get everyone moving!"

—OOO—

**Segestes Leaves**

Segestes had not brought many warriors with him when he had arrived a few days before to attempt one last time to talk some sense into the intransigent Roman General. His whole force numbered perhaps three hundred men; just enough to bestow on him the authority of his position as a Germanic Chieftain, without appearing to oppose Varus's Legions in any way. Now, as the morning wore on, he had finished his preparations and was about to leave the Roman base, after his unsuccessful meeting with Varus. For one last time he sat his horse beside that of Varus, outside the General's tent; now at the heart of disarray as everyone nearby put the final touches to their supposedly carefully-planned measures to commence the vast army's move forward towards the forest, just visible on the misty horizon.

"Will you not take heed, Governor Varus?" Segestes still could not believe a Roman General could disregard his oft-repeated words of warning so completely. "For the last time, Arminius is not to be trusted! What he will do, I do not know. But something is in the wind. This rumour he speaks of, about some uprising in the East! Nonsense! The tribes there are hardly above the animals they keep in their fields; mere farmers who couldn't hold a spear or sword if their lives ever depended on it! You go on a pointless expedition in that direction! There is no uprising. Take my word for it, General Varus!"

"On the contrary, I take Arminius's word that there is, Segestes!" Varus sneered openly at the vassal German Chief beside him. "I have watched over the years as he rose through the Legionary ranks, and I trust him as a Roman! Your personal antagonism towards him has reached heights that make a fool of you, Segestes! I will not listen to you! I have experience and power as a Roman Governor; and I have every belief in my capability, and the Roman Legions under my command! Do you wish anything before you leave?"

"No!" Segestes grimaced in disgust as he turned his mount's head. "I wish all the Gods on your side, Varus! I have no grievance towards you, or your Legions! I have said what I came to say. Goodbye!"

He rode off without a glance back, and in a few minutes Varus enjoyed the delightful sight of the battalion of Germanic tribesmen riding out behind the blue-caped Chief on his way South towards the frontier with Gaul; where there were other, strongly-manned, Roman forts strategically placed. Soon there was only a dust-cloud to mark the position of the retreating warriors; and within a few minutes, in the damp misty atmosphere, all trace of their presence was gone.

"No loss to the Roman army there!" Varus grunted and turned to a Prefect beside him. "Come, Ceionius, let us go find Arminius. He will himself be almost ready to head out to muster fresh forces for us!"

—OOO—

**Arminius Leaves**

There was a great deal of hustle and bustle throughout the remnants of the base as all the camp-followers finished loading their wide-wheeled carts with the last of the provisions and equipment necessary to the smooth–working of a Roman army. Even though the day was rainy there was still a considerable amount of dust thrown up by the squads of marching legionaries, and others intent on last-minute jobs before it was too late. Varus rode through this hurly-burly like a man well-used to such activity, making a bee-line for the Northern corner of the almost broken camp where Arminius had his tent and Germanic auxiliaries stationed. As he rode up the General could see the cavalrymen already in ranks and ready for departure, with the figure of their leader in all the panoply of a Roman Prefect at their head. He wore a silver-plated breastplate that, even on this dull day, shone brightly.

"Ha, Arminius, how goes it?" Varus called, with a note of pleasure in his voice. For he truly respected and trusted this young man who had come, over the years, to be his right-hand commander. "Are you ready to leave? A pity you must search out more warriors in these damned forests; but it will help me when you return with reinforcements!"

"Thank you, General!" Arminius rode to meet the heavy-set Roman and drew his horse up alongside the resplendent General. "My troops are ready. Your own preparations appear to be going well!"

"Ah, uprooting oneself from a well-loved camp and travelling through these dark swamps and forests is a nightmare at the best of times; but it will eventually lead to the Winter camp where we can all finally relax in comfort! I have noted your directions about the route to the East. It will take me along the Northern edge of the Kalkriese Ridge, you say?"

"Aye, General." Arminius nodded with a broad smile; perfectly at ease with the situation. "There isn't much of a trail for several parasangs as you skirt the hill close on its North side; and a nasty swamp on the forest side, but it will open up quickly to allow your army a much easier march from then on, take my word on it!"

"I do, Arminius." Varus smiled complacently. "I am glad to have the knowledge of such an expert, who knows the area intimately. Saves me much trouble and time, I assure you. Well, thank you and good luck in your search for more tribal auxiliaries! I need all the warriors you can muster; but I need to have you back, out in open country further East, in three days or so!"

"As you order, General!" Arminius nodded at the Roman and raised his closed fist to his breastplate in the Roman salute. "May the Gods be with you, Varus! Goodbye, till we meet again!"

Another moment saw him turn his horse and ride forward to the head of the closely-formed ala of auxiliary soldiers under his command. A last wave to the watching General and he rode out at the head of his small force. Within a couple of minutes an intervening copse of pines hid all further view of the departing cavalrymen and Varus once more turned to the Prefect-Commander by his side.

"Well, Ceionius, that idiot Segestes has left us, thank the Gods!" The General laughed chestily as he turned his own horse towards the point where he intended to ride in the newly-forming military line. "And our friend Arminius is now on his way, too! The new auxiliaries he brings on his return will be of great assistance. A fine Roman officer, if I say so myself! Come, let us be on our own way. I have no liking for this proposed trek along the Kalkriese Ridge, and I don't like the sound of those swamps; but needs must and it'll let us reach those damned insurgents in the East all the faster. And won't I know what to do with them, Ceionius! Uprisings like that need to be made an example of, and I am just the man for such a job! Come, send to Legatus Valla to head the vanguard on its way. Those traitorous animals in the East will soon bend before the might of Rome: and a touch of slavery afterwards will do them no harm, eh? Ha! Ha!"

—OOO—

**A Centurion's Life**

Marcus Aius, though still only thirty-two, was an important soldier. Centurion of Cohort 1 of Legion XIX, he had much on his mind as he struggled to maintain some kind of authority and discipline among the small group of his men whom he had managed to keep together this morning. The order from Varus that everyone, including legionaries, should mingle and walk alongside all the other assorted members of the expedition had been met with general disbelief by the soldiers. But there was nothing to be done except obey orders; encourage the men's spirits; and try to sustain his authority over them. Marcus was finding all this somewhat difficult, as soldier after soldier came up to him to ask what in Hades was General Varus thinking of! He himself had no idea of the answer, so found it increasingly difficult to give any comfort to others.

He tightened the belt at his waist; took a reassuring grip of the hilt of his short sword and glanced around at the ever-increasing mayhem.

"Hey, you! Legionary! What in Ares name are you doing? Get over to the other men and stop chatting with those civilians!" Marcus had lost most of his temper an hour or so ago, and was now working on a reserve of mild irritation that gave his language, if nothing else, a flavour of the rich Italian South from which he had sprung. "Gods! This is more like a farmer's convention than a regulated Army on the march! Come on! Get in line; and get in step!"

Marcus groaned in disgust. Whatever else happened on this march through the Germanic forests, he could foresee some real trouble in the ranks over the perceived lack of respect to the legionaries that the soldiers clearly felt General Varus was showing towards them. As the rain began to fall in heavier sheets, and run in drops down his face, Marcus once more turned to the fifty or so soldiers he had managed to hold in one group and shook his head as he took the lead.

"March in close step, men; and keep your eyes on the Eagle Standard beside me! We are Roman soldiers, remember, not a rabble of Germanic tribesmen! Follow me!"

**End of Chapter 1.**

—**OOO—**

**Note on the disposition of the various forces.**

Publius Quinctilius Varus, infamously, allowed his army to travel in an irregular manner. Instead of the Legions being in close formation; on alert; with out-lying scouts; and the army sections being directed in a disciplined configuration, he let everyone travel mingled together. This included his Legions, which were dispersed among all the other travellers, Cohorts, and Alae with no formal military pattern at all. Why he allowed this we do not know. The army travelled at the pace of the foot-soldiers and extended in a crawling line about 9 miles in length, amazing as this may seem!

**Germanic/Amazon attack strategy.**

Arminius's tribal forces used a policy whereby they locally outnumbered any single group of Varus's mixed–up soldiers and camp-followers. Because they were caught in such a loose formation, in difficult terrain, the Roman soldiers' usual discipline, experience, and military tactics were ineffective against this guerrilla strategy.

**Roman Strength**

a. **Three Legions (Legio XVII, Legio XVIII, and Legio XIX)**. Only Roman citizens were allowed to join a Legion. Each Legion comprised 10 Cohorts. A Cohort consisted of six "centuries" of 80 men; each commanded by a Centurion. Cohorts were numbered in each Legion. Each 1st Cohort was almost double-strength, with** 800 men. **Total** 15,360 men.**

b.** Six Cohorts of auxiliary troops** (non-citizens or allies). Total **2,880 men.**

c. **Three squadrons of cavalry (alae)**, An Ala comprised 500 cavalry-men. Total **1,500 men.**

d. Lucius Caedicius has his own ala of **500 cavalry**, from the camp he commands at Alisi.

e. **Large numbers of camp-followers. **Wagon-drivers, cooks, servants, slaves, road-pioneers, etc. Say about** 1,000 men & women.**

**Total — 21,240 men & women.**

**Arminius's Germanic Tribal Alliance **

Suebi Alliance — Langobardi, Naristi, Marcomanni, Quadi, & others.

Arminius's Alliance — Cherusci, Bructeri, Marsi, Sicambri, Chauci and Chatti.

**Total —** **24,000 men.**

**Gabrielle's Amazon Army **

The Southern Chalcidice Tribe. Her own tribe. **4,700 warriors.**

Otrera's Northern Torrequa & Calessi Tribe. **7,100 warriors.**

**Total Germanic/Amazon Forces — 35,800 warriors.**

**Measurements of distance**

**1 parasang** = 3 miles approx. (4.827 km). **10 stadia** = 1 mile approx. (1.609 km).

—OOO—

This story will be approximately 18 chapters in length; and each chapter will be much shorter than this initial chapter.

—OOO—


	2. The First Fight

MCA/Universal/RenPics own all copyrights to everything related to 'Xena: Warrior Princess' and I have no rights to them.

—OOO—

**Chapter 2. Day 2.**

**The First Fight**

**Arminius & Xena**

On leaving Varus's camp Arminius had ridden with his ala of cavalry for most of the rest of that day. Ostensibly he should have been heading in a South-Westerly direction, in order to locate outlying tribes in the area. In fact he swiftly turned North-East, when well out of sight or knowledge of Varus's troops, and set off for a long-planned meeting with a section of the Germanic army hiding in the outskirts of the forest just over a day's journey away.

As had been decided earlier he would join with this group, and Xena and Serilda's troops; then they would all head some way across to the West where a small, but vital, outpost on the forest border was still manned by Roman soldiers guarding that area. Their aim was to destroy this camp in order that it did not give Varus sustenance or safety, if by any chance of Fortune he managed to escape the coming onslaught and retreat in that direction.

Everything went as expected and he quickly found the waiting German tribal warriors in the late morning of the day following his exit from Varus's camp. They amounted in all to around 700 fighters, all ready and eager to play their part in the uprising for their leader and country. So, with his own 500 cavalry, he now commanded a strong force of 1,200 or so warriors. Then, having organised themselves, they cantered on their way through the copses and open grassland.

As midday approached Serilda, with Xena accompanying her, had rallied their troops on a wide heath where they awaited the arrival of Arminius with some excitement. The thousand or so warriors were milling around on their horses in a more or less disciplined manner, and Serilda was describing to Xena some of the complex differences between the various tribes represented by the men and women present in front of them.

This was only a small fraction of the larger army. Among those warriors visible were experienced ex-auxiliaries who knew all there was to know about Roman army tactics and the way they fought. Many of these were heavily bearded, as was the German custom; though many of the younger men were clean-shaven., or at least had shorter beards. Among these the warrior-women stood out quite clearly; for the Germans too had women who went to war in the ranks of the tribal armies as warriors on their own account. As she looked around Serilda saw many of those whom she knew personally, and had great respect for.

What had finally brought them together in this unusual alliance, as she explained to Xena, was a shared belief in Arminius, and the wish to rid German soil of the hated invader. As Serilda looked around she could see elements of tribes such as the Cherusci to which she herself belonged, as did Arminius. They were recognisable by the way the men braided their long hair, and the dark blue woollen leggings they universally wore. A short distance away were a group from the Marcomanni tribe, who wore their hair long and unbraided, while favouring leggings of a lighter blue and jerkins of dark green. The Marcomanni were also generally less tall than the Cherusci. Just in front of Serilda was a detachment of Semnones, members of the old Suebi alliance which had joined forces with Arminius's group. These warriors stood out by the light green woollen capes they wore, and the stocky, fair-haired look of their race. They were some of the most renowned fighters in Germania and Serilda, at least, was glad to have them alongside her. They also braided their long hair, but differently from the Cherusci. In fact, though the massed ranks of warriors looked to an outsider very similar to each other, any Germanic citizen could easily tell the various tribes apart.

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a young warrior with flowing brown hair who rode up with some bravado, and a wide grin on his face.

"Arminius is nearby. The scouts have just reported his band approaching!"

Within a few minutes a cloud of dust showed itself among the trees on the edge of the heath; then a group of warriors rode out in steady formation. Arminius had arrived amongst his people!

After a quick greeting with Arminius, whom she had already met secretly several times, Xena wasted no time in setting out her plan of attack. The Roman outpost was actually a way-station guarding a meandering, but often busy, track leading North away from the forest. It now lay only half a parasang further West from their present position. In the usual tradition of Roman military enterprises of this nature it was laid out in a roughly rectangular arrangement; with the regulation low bank and ditch surrounding it. This had however been a hurriedly built camp, and the end result stopped some way short of what might be called the usual level of acceptability. The ditch was not deep, and its slopes were far too shallow; offering no more than a transitory impediment to any assault. The log palisade that topped its far side, running all round the camp, was pitiably low and insecure; being only a spear's length in height and not provided with a continuous rampart where soldiers could stand with bows.

The only side that was reinforced to any extent was on the West where the main entrance lay. This had a double-height palisade made of stronger thicker logs, and the gateway was protected by a rampart and deep tunnel under an overhanging roof where soldiers could look down on the ground immediately in front of the entrance.

Inside the compound were the military buildings of any ordinary Roman camp; several barracks for the soldiers, a cookhouse, a building for the commanding officer, storerooms for equipment and rations, and some stabling for the horses. It was a medium-sized specimen of its kind, but at present was woefully understaffed. There had been some speculation by the German warriors that a Cohort of legionaries from Legion XVII, with an accompanying Cohort of auxiliaries, were also stationed there. But information newly gathered by Serilda's scouts had shown this was not in fact the case.

Though built to hold about 600 men, at the moment no more than a couple of centuria were based there. These two hundred soldiers were mostly made up of time-served men who would be leaving the Army when they returned to Rome from this posting. The camp-commander, a mere centurion also approaching the end of his career, seemed to have developed a somewhat relaxed outlook on discipline after spending many months on this assignment; principally because no-one else wanted the dull routine of such a backwater.

The fort sat in the middle of a wide heath. The nearest tree-cover was over to the East, about two stadia away. The wide earth track (it could hardly be called a road) which gave the way-station its reason for being ran past about one hundred feet from the main entrance. After some thought Xena had decided that, rather than a night attack under cover of darkness, a day assault relying on the speed of her warriors to catch most of the soldiers unawares at their meal would have greater success.

Xena's plan was brilliantly simple: have Serilda attack the main entrance with a show of force and great noise, to draw the majority of the defenders on duty; then she and Arminius would attack the far sides of the camp with the bulk of their warriors. Several ready-made ladders had been prepared and she was certain they could cross the palisade, occupy the camp, and defeat the inmates easily and quickly. Arminius was of the same mind and gave his acceptance with a firm handshake in the Roman fashion, hand to forearm, with Xena.

—OOO—

**Attack**

All was peaceful in the camp, as always at this time in the late afternoon when the cookhouse had delivered of its best and the idly chatting ranks were sitting down to their main meal of the day. As usual in the Roman Army at this time of year onions tended to predominate; but as these were today cunningly hidden in a rich venison stew those sitting at the barrack-room tables weren't overly critical. The nearby forest provided a well-stocked source of easily caught fresh meat, if nothing else.

One barrack served as the eating-area for the soldiers; but with room only for about 100 sitters; the rest took their food to their own barracks to eat. So at this time of day almost all the soldiers were either in the dining-room; or elsewhere settled at their food. All was harmony and good humour amongst the groups of men exchanging ribald jokes and criticisms of the food as they did every day; but this happy atmosphere changed in an instant when the door suddenly crashed open to reveal a young excited soldier waving his sword in the air!

"Attack at the main gate! Everybody to Battle-stations!"

Instantly all was noise and confusion. Caught unawares most tried to rush the narrow door, but only succeeded in causing a bottle-neck. Outside there was disorder and uncertainty. At the Gate the unexpected attack had taken the form of a huge onslaught of arrows which had focussed on the rampart and main entrance. So successful had this been that several men manning the defences now lay riddled with arrows; while others on the ground were just as unlucky. The survivors; those that were not wounded, had climbed to the rampart, but were unable to raise their heads over the parapet to catch sight of the enemy as the flights of arrows still rained down mercilessly.

"Where's the Optio Lucius?" Someone shouted for the officer in charge of the on-duty soldiers.

"Dead! On the rampart!"

"Rally to the Tesserarius then! Where's he?"

"Can't find him!"

"Get the Centurion! Get Crassus!"

"There's hundreds of warriors out there! They mean business!"

"Who's leading the men at the gate?"

"No-one!"

"Strife and Discord! Where's Crassus? Get everyone on the West wall and Gate!"

Those soldiers scrambling hurriedly out the dining-room suddenly realised they were still unarmed and would need to fetch their weapons from their barracks. This resulted in further confusion when the only two officers who finally appeared, another Optio and a Tesserarius, started ordering the troops to the walls; only to see them run off in search of their equipment.

When the Centurion Crassus came out of his office building, at the behest of an excited soldier, he found wild disorder and a significant lack of leadership. What he could also see was a cloud of dust and mass of soldiers congregating at the main entrance, where most of the trouble seemed to be focussed.

It was at this point he made the first, and most serious, of his mistakes.

"Find the other officers!" He gave orders harshly to his own Optio now standing by his side. "I want everyone on the main gate at once; never mind the other walls!"

He strode out onto the flat parade-ground; keeping a sharp eye on the fighting going on around the Gate, and taking no notice of anything else. Within a few moments he had crossed the intervening space and started trying to instil some sort of discipline and method into the dishevelled and shocked men by the barricaded entrance.

Then he made his second mistake.

"Get the men off the rampart! I want them assembled on the ground here, with bows! Let's return the fire of these savages!"

At this juncture several dozen soldiers finally arrived, armed with swords and bows. Though there were fewer of the latter than Crassus wished.

"Form up here and send a volley over the wall!" He bustled about waving his arms, and growing red in the face with effort.

The men had barely settled in place; some kneeling and others standing, when another volley of arrows sailed over the palisade in a tight well-aimed cloud. They rained down on the soldiers in vicious sheets, causing havoc. Many were killed outright; many more were wounded and crashed to the ground screaming and thrashing about, getting in the way of their comrades.

Crassus pulled an arrow from the light shield that he held protecting his left side, and was gazing at its sharp iron point in a stupor when a call came from a bloody-faced soldier who ran up through the dust and clamour.

"They're coming over the North wall, sir! Scores of 'em!"

It was here Crassus made his third mistake.

"A decoy! It's a decoy. The main attack is here, at the Gate!" He wiped a suddenly sweat-soaked brow with his hand. "Where are my Optio's? I need more men! Rally everyone here! Send three contubernia to the North wall, no more! I need everyone beside me!"

The soldier ran off with the allotted 24 men, after some wasted time organising them; but he and Crassus were entirely unaware these were far too few to have any effect against the hundreds of warriors now swarming over both the North and the South walls into the nearly defenceless camp.

When the soldier and his men reached the vicinity of the North wall they were met with a scene of catastrophe. In the interval of the soldier's absence a hoard of warriors had somehow breached the palisade; overwhelmed those few soldiers in the vicinity; and were now swarming across the ground between the defensive wall and the various buildings grouped within it. The soldier and his men never made it to the wall; they were blocked instead by a wave of spear-carrying warriors screaming viciously for blood.

The soldiers had their ordinary gladius's, short swords, but these quickly and unexpectedly proved nearly useless against the long sharp-bladed spears wielded by the opposition. Within seconds the soldiers found themselves the centre of a massacre. They had no way to successfully defend against the enemies long spears, which were light and used with expert knowledge by the bearded savages.

The soldier leading this last-ditch defence suddenly heard an ululating scream from the heavens that sent shivers of terror through his disjointed thoughts. Then, in the last seconds of his life, he saw a dark-haired tall woman descend out of the sky in front of him to hit the ground on her feet with a terrific thud. For one instant he saw the snarling expression on her face and the slicing sword; then darkness!

Xena slashed her sword through the air, as a stream of blood-drops scattered from its blade; taking no further notice of the quivering body still gushing blood at her feet, then raised her arm in the air with a loud cry.

"Follow me! Across the parade-ground! Take the Gate defenders from the rear! We've got 'em!"

Still unaware of what was going on across the far side of the camp Crassus had, with some difficulty, organised the soldiers beside him into three ranks close to the gate and under the shadow of the palisade; hoping this would provide some protection from the descending arrows. As he called on the few officers left to follow his orders the constant stream of arrows suddenly stopped. He paused uncertainly for a moment, taking some valuable time to gaze into the air trying to decide what this meant; and to peer indecisively through the heavy dust-clouds now obscuring the view inside the camp-grounds.

At this point Crassus made his fourth and final mistake.

"They've run out of arrows! Now's our chance! Bring some men up behind me onto the rampart. You, Optio, take the rest out the Gate when I order it opened. I mean to drive these savages back into the forest! Now! Open the Gate!"

He turned to dash up the steps leading to the rampart above the Gate and arrived there just in time to meet the first warrior coming over the parapet from the many ladders now leaning against the wall outside. His opponent was a woman-warrior with long braided dark hair, wearing the typical woollen jerkin and leggings of her tribe. Raising his sword above his head he faced the woman, now screaming something in German, then gasped as her sword whipped round under his guard and took him solidly in the belly. For a moment he was aware of a burning pain; then he was lying on the dusty boards of the rampart floor. Through eyes suddenly gushing involuntarily with tears at the unexpected agony he saw her face close to his; a dim glimpse of a long bladed knife: then, thankfully, nothing!

Serilda rose quickly from her crouching position over the body at her feet; the man's blood liberally splashed on her dagger and clothes, even her face: then ran down the steps to the ground inside the camp with crowds of screaming warriors following at her heels. They were in the fort, and the defenders were at their mercy: but there was going to be no mercy!

The throng of unsure and ill-equipped soldiers still gathered at the Gate; some 80 or so, were faced with a horde of German warriors who quickly cut a path of destruction through their weakened ranks. Within seconds; instead of a body of soldiers in military order, perhaps even capable of forming defensive squares, there were instead disordered groups dashing about in futile attempts to evade their attacker's onslaught.

Serilda led her warriors against the soldiers she could see immediately in front of her. These proved ill-disciplined and leaderless: within a couple of minutes she had wreaked bloody havoc amongst them and broken through into the main parade square of the camp.

Here she found the battered remnants of the defenders doing their best to hold off attacks from three sides. Xena's forces were pummelling the weakened ranks on their left hand, while on their other side another group of German warriors had arrived under Arminius's command. As Serilda advanced she caught a glimpse of Arminius himself wielding a sword over his head and bellowing so loudly she could hear him from where she stood a hundred feet away.

With a cry she led her followers into the fray and set-to against the terror-stricken soldiers. These men appeared to be the last defence; the only remaining real group left. But there were now far too few of them, and within minutes the game was lost.

Serilda saw Xena's tall figure beating her way through the last cluster of soldiers, inflicting mayhem on either hand as she advanced uncontrollably. Serilda realised, for the first time, the cold supercilious and terrifying nature of the unleashed demon that resided somewhere in the dark recesses of Xena's soul. The last defenders finally cast down their weapons; only to be quickly overwhelmed by their attackers and mostly dispatched without compunction or mercy, as Serilda reached Xena's side. The German girl saw the harsh stare with which the warrior-woman gazed at the surrounding turmoil; a gaze that clearly boded ill for her enemies. This was obviously, Serilda found herself thinking, a woman who knew how to kill with cold-blooded intent when necessary. Then Serilda drew a deep much-needed breath, as outside sounds seemed to jump back to life all round her after a period of apparent near deafness during the heaviest of the fighting.

—OOO—

**Aftermath**

The aftermath was messy. Of some two hundred soldiers in the camp there remained alive only 23 prisoners and 37 wounded, many too seriously to survive. From all directions, through the dust-laden air of the camp, could be heard the groans and screams of these unfortunates, now being given some medical attention. Many of the German warriors had moved on to gleefully ransacking the camp buildings for loot, while Arminius held a Council of War in the centre of the abandoned parade-ground. Xena and an exhausted Serilda stood by his side as he considered the outcome of the bloody engagement.

"A great success!" He nodded at Xena with a smile of relief. "I had not expected such a quick, or overwhelming, victory. You and Serilda have trained the warriors well!"

"Serilda did most of the hard work!" Xena glanced at the young woman beside her. "She has an organisational skill that's worked wonders!"

"Your expertise in the fight helped, Xena!" The German woman gazed at her tall Greek companion with some awe, and a little fear, in her face. "Gods! You went through those soldiers like—like an avenging Demon! I've never seen fighting like that!"

"When you fight—fight to win, nothing else will do!" Xena shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just sorry I wasn't quick enough to stop the slaughter of the wounded our people carried out just now! Too many, across the whole camp!"

"The German warriors—my German warriors—are like that; not without just cause or reason, Xena!" Arminius scowled as he spoke. "The Romans have treated our people ruthlessly, bringing many into disgrace and slavery; now they will reap their just rewards at our spear-points! This is real War, Xena—not some historical recollection written in a scroll with all the bloody bits removed, so that some Matron in Rome reading it doesn't throw up over her plover's eggs in the evening!"

"I know that, Arminius!" Xena wiped a hand over her own sweat-covered forehead. "There'll be a lot more blood spilled, and soldiers screaming for mercy, before this is finished! But I'm with you all the way!"

"What we need to do now is head East back towards Kalkriese to join up with Gabrielle and Otrera again." Arminius gazed round the broken camp. "This is a good omen for the start of our campaign; but, as the Romans say—we must not rest on our laurels!"

"Yeah, this is only the prelude!" Serilda spoke with infinite tiredness after the physical and mental strain of the last hour. "When we hit Varus at Kalkriese it will be so much worse!"

"Varus thinks he has an easy route through the forest to Kalkriese and beyond." Xena's voice, though quiet, carried a tone of immense certainty. "But between your forces, Arminius; and Gabrielle and Otrera's Amazons, it will be his Gotterdammerung!"

—OOO—

**Notes:—**

**Optio** & **Tesserarius** are ranks under the command of a Centurion; equivalent to 1st & 2nd Lieutenants.

A **Contubernium** (plural-contubernia) was the smallest organised unit of soldiers in the Roman Army, comprising 8 men.

—OOO—


	3. Preparations

—OOO—

The action in this chapter takes place on the same day as the attack by Xena and Arminius on the Roman Fort described in the previous chapter.

**Measurements of distance**—1 **parasang**=3 miles approx. (4.827 km). 10 **stadia**=1 mile approx. (1.609 km).

—OOO—

**Chapter 3. Day 2.**

'**Preparations'**

**Otrera's Forces**

The rain had started early in the morning and showed no sign of easing as the day progressed. Everywhere was damp and the vistas through the trees were partially obscured by chill mists. The thin oaks and low bushes dripped miserable trickles of water from their branches; puddles appeared on the ground of varying width and depth; and the few streams suddenly gained new energy and power, filling their narrow channels with rushing water.

The warriors, both Amazon and German, found their clothes being saturated by the rain which blew in fine sheets that tingled against the face. It made the leather thongs and reins on their horses hard and difficult to use; while their mounts hooves began to sink into the steadily softer earth.

"This ain't solid ground!" Otrera looked around disgustedly at the whole miserable situation as she rode amongst the trees with her co-commander, Theodemir. "It's just acres of mud, waiting to happen!"

Theodemir was a mature bearded Cherusci warrior-chief of long experience who had fought many battles between local tribal groups and knew the lie of the land in this region intimately. He was fanatically loyal to Arminius and the Cherusci tribe and would struggle with all his might for their release from the domination of the Roman Legions. The German warriors under his command understandably looked to him with huge regard.

Otrera and Gabrielle had parted at dawn and were now separated by several parasangs; in fact, nearly a day's march. Gabrielle was still at Kalkriese, making certain the earth ramparts and walls were holding up well. Otrera had come further West, towards the outskirts of the forest, to watch for the first appearance of Varus's army column later that day.

Some 3,000 mixed German warriors and Amazons under Otrera's and Theodemir's shared command were already in position in this area; though closely hidden. Her main aim today would be to make visual contact with the Roman column, while remaining out of sight. She would trail the slow-moving line of carts and men; watching that they did indeed take the Kalkriese route. It was not the intention of Gabrielle or Otrera to engage the Romans in conflict that day. Their purpose was to allow the marching army to penetrate further into the wild terrain of the forest proper; to let the trees and twisting trail enfold the straggling men, women, carts, mules, and troops so that it would be all the more difficult for any part of the inexorably extending column to know what was happening to any other part.

After some discussion between Otrera and Theodemir it had been decided to place their warriors some distance away from the trail used by the Romans. The Germans and Amazons were therefore well-hidden in the deep thickets and copses making up the outskirts of the forest. Hidden so well, in fact, the Romans had no chance of seeing them; though the Germans could observe the Romans from a distance with ease. It was Otrera's and Theodemir's intention to simply wait quietly while the Roman Legions, and their straggling followers, made their way deeper into the heart of the forest. Only then, when Arminius and Xena had re-joined the warriors after their own expedition, would they contemplate launching the first attack on the rear of the column; thus driving the remainder further on, towards the trap at Kalkriese.

Otrera was wrapped in a heavy woollen cloak and wore a deerskin jerkin and trousers with thick boots. Even so she shivered in the early morning air as they rode along, still feeling uncomfortable in this chilly climate. At her waist was her favourite sword, slightly longer than the usual Roman gladius, with its edges honed to deadly sharpness.

As they checked their mounts, gazing over a small open glade filled with warriors, a young German lad about eighteen rode up on a brown mare and halted by their side.

"There are no Roman scouts being sent out in advance of Varus's column!" He seemed competent and calm, with piercing blue eyes and only the first stirrings of a beard. "Just a small party of road-pioneers under a light guard of auxiliaries!"

"What of the Legions?" Theodemir echoed Otrera's own thoughts.

"I found one of our own scouts and we kept an eye on their line of advance for some time." The young man wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and frowned. "The Legions aren't in formation; neither are the Auxiliaries!"

"What do you mean?" Otrera leaned forward a little to stare at the young German. "If they're not in formation why isn't the army advancing; why have they stopped?"

"They haven't stopped!" The warrior shrugged his shoulders. "Varus seems to have ordered the legionaries to walk amongst the camp-followers and other people, without keeping their military units intact at all!"

"That's crazy!" Otrera voiced what Theodemir clearly also thought. "Nobody but a fool would organise a march in that manner! What does he think he's doing?"

"Making our work a hundred times easier; that's what he's doing!" Theodemir laughed in his deep bass voice. "We all knew Varus was a fool; but this beats all!"

—OOO—

After the scout had ridden off Otrera and Theodemir rode on for nearly a parasang in a Westerly direction; making sure their warriors were settled in place and well hidden amongst the undergrowth. Eventually they dismounted, leaving their horses in the care of a group of Amazons. Then they quietly stole through the bushes, looking for an opening in the trees allowing a wider view of the terrain.

At this point the forest was just beginning to show its true nature; though the trees were not anywhere near the density they achieved further East. The main body of the forest was still some way off behind them, though outlying copses and subsidiary woods lay all around; making it look to a traveller as if they were already, indeed, surrounded by the spreading arms of the forest.

The heavy clouds and thin rain also helped to obscure the view as wide patches of thin mist enveloped the trees and heaths, making silhouettes of the distant trees and copses, and closing off the horizon.

The two crouched low and slid through the bushes with hardly a shiver of branch or leaf; they were both experts. Soon they reached the edge of a small wood and looked out onto a clearer extent of rolling heathland. Here, in the far distance, the first traces could just be made out of the still invisible Roman column.

It was the habit of Roman armies on the march to send ahead small units of pioneers to cut back the undergrowth; build small bridges; level paths; or otherwise make the advancing army's lot easier. These workers, usually protected by a Cohort of auxiliaries, could be anything from an hour to half a day's march in advance of the main column. Whatever else he was failing to do Varus at least had sense enough to dispatch such a unit ahead of his already straggling army.

After watching the group for a while Otrera could see they were restricting their efforts to merely clearing the heaviest of the undergrowth on the immediate trail, as they made their way along. There was no sense of urgency as the men chopped and cut; throwing the branches to either side as they went forward. There were two carts pulled by mules in their rear, and what seemed to be about half a Cohort of foreign auxiliaries, not the Roman citizen Legionaries themselves.

This matter of the auxiliaries had given Arminius and Xena; as well as Otrera and Gabrielle, some pause for thought. It was generally known they were made up mostly of Hispanic warriors and Gauls. After discussion Arminius had let it be known that they would be allowed to disperse and flee, when caught in battle and defeated. Arminius's main concern was with the Roman legionaries; if it was easier to let the Hispanic and Gaulish soldiers suddenly decide they were better off elsewhere, let it be so!

As Otrera watched the desultory activity of the small band of road-clearers she mused on Arminius and Xena. She hoped their attack against the outlying Roman fort went well, and that they would soon return unseen towards the rear of Varus's column as planned. She and Theodemir were immediately level with the head of the slowly moving Roman army; while Gabrielle was far to the East at Kalkriese, superintending the field-works and earth rampart thrown up by the Germanic warriors in preparation for the arrival of the Roman legionaries. At the moment everything looked to be going smoothly; though still, as far as Otrera could see, the only apparent sign of the Roman army was this small band of workers and their mule-carts.

"It's all coming together!" Theodemir spoke quietly as they lay in the wet grass side by side. "Just as Arminius said—Varus is taking the bait!"

"Yeah!" Otrera nodded, as she watched the faint outlines of the figures in the distance. "Even the weather's working in our favour. Difficult terrain; mud; rain; mist; and a straggling line of advance! And Varus being a fool in military procedures helps, too! I'm beginning to think this attack may well be easier than we thought!"

—OOO—

**Gabrielle's Forces**

"They're called Aquilifers." Gabrielle stood in front of a large crowd of mixed Amazons and German tribal warriors under the forest shade of ash and elms. "They are the Eagle Standard-Bearers, and there's one to each Legion. He'll have a lionskin wrapped round his shoulders, with the skin of the lion-head pulled over his own head like a cap. He'll carry a long wooden pole painted red, or gilt in gold. On the top is either a small metal figure of an eagle with raised wings; or an eagle's head. Just under the eagle will be a metal band or plate with the Legion number engraved on it. This is the main standard of each Legion, and they guard it with extreme care. The standards may not look like much to you; but the Legions revere them as vitally important. It means everything to them; their honour; their power; their authorisation: they will fight to the last man rather than let it be captured!"

Gabrielle stood in the heart of the forest, with the long ridge of Kalkriese Hill outlined mistily through the rain behind her. She was intent on explaining to her assembled warriors the significance of the Roman flag-officer who would be carrying the most important standard belonging to each Legion.

The warriors, both Amazon and German, listened silently as she spoke. They wished to know every detail of their enemy's capability, and their weak spots. While many of the German tribal warriors had actually served in Roman auxiliary cohorts, mainly stationed in foreign countries and Provinces, the majority had probably never even seen a Roman legionary in the flesh before.

"If you see one of these Aquilifers, take 'em down! Even better if you can capture any of the Eagle Standards! That'll demoralise the Legionaries so much you wouldn't believe it—take my word for it! You already have some idea of the tactics the Roman soldiers generally prefer using." Gabrielle pitched her voice loudly, with a determined tone, so it carried under the trees and across the heads of the crowd of men and women facing her. "They like some space to unite into formations with their shields facing the enemy on all sides, so protecting them. They may have groups inside these squares with bows to act as assault weapons against their foe. Their usual policy is to attack. That's what most of their military strategies are based on! Our policy is not to let them achieve these traditional tactics at all. We'll send surprise flights of arrows into them; followed immediately with an assault by spear-carriers. Then you fall back straight away and we send another swarm of arrows into them. After that we retreat into the trees where they won't follow, for fear of being over-run. We'll keep up a continual mix of arrow attacks and assaults by spear-carriers all along the line of the area we choose to attack."

"What about those who run off, or escape into the forest; or our prisoners?" The speaker had a deep voice and straggly beard of a reddish hue; and was clearly of much experience in these matters.

"If a few escape and disappear into the trees, let them go!" Gabrielle was emphatic on this point. "There won't be that many, and they'll be too intent on saving their skins to form any kind of counter-attack. As to prisoners, try not to take any. I don't mean by that, kill 'em all! Listen carefully! There'll be no slaughter of prisoners—hear me! If a large number surrender take them back into the forest to the rear of our lines. We have some warriors there who can corral them into barricaded pens already prepared to hold them in the short term. Got that?"

There was a murmur of hesitant agreement amongst the tribal warriors; though the Amazons seemed more at ease with this arrangement. Gabrielle knew that eventually prisoners were going to be a serious problem; but one which wouldn't arise till the very last throes of the coming battle. So she was not too worried at the moment: that would come later!

—OOO—

In the meantime, as the Amazons and German warriors dispersed quietly back to their units and positions, Gabrielle mounted her horse and rode some few stadia East along the now increasingly muddy trail, shivering as she went. She was still by no means acclimatised to the constant dampness and rain of this boggy Province. Finally she drew up near a thicket of sturdy oaks which bordered the trail on one side; while on the other was the first sign of the swamp that ran along the downslope of Kalkriese Hill, and which paralleled the trail for a considerable distance.

This meant that the Romans, on their march, would be bounded on their right by Kalkriese Hill and the swampy bog; while close on their left was the forest itself, now re-enforced by a lengthy stockade of banked-up earth with a brushwood fence or paling on the trail side. A rampart had been built about ten feet high running almost continuously for nearly two parasangs. This had been an enormous undertaking for the Germans; helped latterly by the Amazons, and showed just how determined they were about putting all their heart into the operation and taking the fight to the Romans. The German tribal warriors meant business and had been resolute in their preparations for the coming battle.

Gabrielle dismounted and tramped through the trees alongside a stretch of this rampart for some distance; trying to gauge its strength and capacity to repulse any Roman attack. All in all she found herself re-assured. Its height and wooden facing would hold up against any disorganised counter-attack by the Romans; and she knew the enemy were not going to be allowed any protracted form of assault. The Romans would be far too squeezed, between the swamp towards the ridge of Kalkriese on their right and the thick tree-cover and earthwork to their left, to be able to retaliate effectively against the rampart's defences. No, as far as Gabrielle could see, all the omens were in their favour. She had been walking through the dripping trees and muddy grass with a German chieftain by her side, and now she turned to this battle-hardened warrior.

"It all looks great, Baldovin!" She even managed a tight-lipped smile as they both squelched through the encroaching mud. "When Arminius and Xena attack the rear-guard tomorrow, and force Varus's column forward towards Otrera and us, we'll be ready!"

"Yes, Gabrielle!" Baldovin smiled broadly beneath his flowing beard, as he drew the woollen cape round his shoulders a little closer. "And this rain and mud are just what we wanted. Varus will soon be up to his knees in muck and mire!"

Gabrielle stopped to gaze about at the general lie of the land; the muddy grass-covered earth; thickish tree-cover; solid rampart; and, over to her left, the swampy ground that finally rose into the slopes of Kalkriese Hill.

"Have you had those oilskin wraps handed out to everyone, to keep their bowstrings dry, Baldovin?" Gabrielle had come up with this idea a couple of weeks ago and had ordered a large quantity of such cloth made and distributed. As usual, she tried to think of all eventualities. "If we keep our bows dry, and the Romans can't, then we could have a significant advantage!"

"Yes, that could be very useful!" The German nodded just as he trod in a particularly deep muddy puddle, splashing Gabrielle's deerskin leggings. "Sorry! It's getting to be muddier than I expected!"

"Mud is good, Baldovin!" Gabrielle laughed as they continued walking, pulling the hood of her jerkin over her head as a protection against the steadily increasing rain. "The more rain and mud—the more difficulty Varus and his soldiers will have in trekking through it! And their mule-carts will most probably get bogged down and cause even more delay. I can see his column extending over the next few days till it might even be a couple of parasangs long. Just what we want, eh!"

—OOO—

Chapter 4 will cover the same day as this chapter, but from the viewpoint of General Varus and all the members of his straggling army column.

—OOO—


	4. An Army on the March

—OOO—

**Note:—** The events in this chapter take place on the same day as those described in the previous two chapters.

If readers are wondering why there has been little real action so far — the Teutoburg clash was not a single battle but a series of guerrilla attacks against the Roman army column as it made its way through the forest; only ending with General Varus's final cataclysmic defeat near Kalkriese Hill, after several days of continuous skirmishing! I am mostly following this real chronology in my story; so the actual true fighting, in which Xena Gabrielle and the Amazons will take a large part, begins in the next chapter!

—OOO—

**Chapter 4. Day 2.**

'**An Army on the March'**

**General Varus**

The sky was now wholly overcast with leaden grey clouds from which fell rain of a constant and purposeful nature. In the centre of the long extended line of soldiers and camp-followers, now reaching nearly a parasang in length, General Varus rode sedately and majestically; not merely through pride, but also simple necessity. The ground was wild heath; with bunches of tall spiky grass between shorter turf covering earth that had now begun to turn to thin mud, making everyone take extra care with their mounts. There weren't so many spare horses accompanying the march that any could be viewed as expendable. They had recently crossed the very edge of the extensive forest; with a line of rolling hills visible on the near horizon, and were just beginning to be enclosed by encroaching trees which cut off much of the sky above them, and any further distant view. A certain gloom in the soldier's spirits had set in along with the grey skies and rain.

Those few road-pioneers sent ahead to clear the main line of their intended track had been viewed as a necessity by the General, but he had baulked at ordering scouts to sweep further forward; seeing this as needless. It was on this point he was now engaged in an argument with Numonius Vala.

"No, Legatus!" he glared at the man riding beside him. "Scouts? Why? They would only report on the farmers and charcoal-burners. No-one else lives in this forsaken place!"

"Sire! It is necessary! Without scouts we are blind to what lies ahead!" Numonius stuck doggedly to his argument. "My Legions require information about the lie of the land, and any possible foes!"

"I say what the Legions require, Numonius!" General Varus snapped the words coldly. "I lead this army, not you! And I say scouts are unnecessary. There is nothing for them to report on; they would simply be a waste of time. I do not wish this trek extended any further than need be! I'm not going to stroll slowly through this wetland, awaiting constant messages from a multitude of scouts riding a parasang or more ahead of us! No! We move as fast as we can: which, as the Gods' know, is slowly enough anyway! I mean to reach these discontented tribal factions quickly, and put them out of their misery! Then turn and head for my Winter camp in the south. Scouts will just be a hindrance!"

"Every Legion must have scou—"

"It is all down to terrain—the lie of the land—and an intimate knowledge of the type of natives who live on that land, Legatus!" Varus succumbed to his innate habit of lecturing those around him. "And I have that experience! I know what's going on in this Gods' forsaken stretch of Hades that calls itself Germania! And I can tell you, Legatus, the only people within a day's journey are a few charcoal-burners, and even fewer farmers tilling muddy weed-covered fields! Why, you will tell me next you're afraid there may be Amazons hiding in the forest waiting to ambush us! Ha!-ha! Go—see to your Auxiliaries! They should be enough to keep you from worrying overmuch!"

Numonius looked darkly at the heavy-set figure of the General, then pulled on his reins and rode off towards the rear of the column without another word. At the start of the march General Varus had taken pains to explain in detail to his Legatus that, contrary to tradition, he would himself take command of the Legions; leaving only the cohorts of Auxiliaries under the control of Vala. To say Numonius was taken aback would be understating the case. For once in his life he threw caution to the winds and faced-off with the General. A Legatus was the acknowledged leader of the Legions in any Province; and although the Provincial-Governor out-ranked him technically, as written on a scroll, this was hardly ever pursued in reality. Varus, however, had decided to take the letter of the Law as written, and so proclaim himself overall military commander; at least for the duration of the march. He had therefore reduced Legatus Vala to the secondary role of heading the 6 cohorts of Auxiliaries; none of which were in military formation in the column anyway: a state of affairs which also included the three Legions. As Numonius rode off scowling General Varus merely smiled and turned to his personal officer riding alongside him.

"Still a young man for his rank, Ceionius, but he will no doubt learn manners eventually!" A deep laugh rippled through the General's heavy frame. "Thank the Gods I am here to stop him taking unnecessary risks! I can just see him making camp twice a day, and waiting for hours for news from his army of scouts! Take him about a month to make contact with the rebels; maybe another month to subdue them; then another month to finally reach the Winter camp. By which time he'll need to be thinking about returning to the Summer camp again, ha!"

"Was it altogether wise to relieve him of his Legions though, sire?" The haughty man looked at his superior as they rode over the damp grass. "It _has_ irritated him; and I believe the legionaries themselves are somewhat critical!"

"It's for his own good, Ceionius!" Varus grunted unashamedly. "He's been somewhat above himself for months now. Needs taught a lesson! And as for the soldiers—they live by grumbling! Never seen a cohort of legionaries that didn't grumble—it's in their nature! Why, if they had nothing to complain of they'd be unhappier than they are now, believe me!"

—OOO—

**Lucius Caecilius**

There was indeed confusion in the ranks of the discontented legionaries scattered through the winding mass of the army's ranks. Trained to perfection in military exercises and routine they immediately felt—on being ordered to march interspersed with the camp-followers—they were being taken advantage of. Each man had long known of the growing dislike between their Legatus—whom they respected—and the officious, cold, and dangerous Provincial-General—who was mostly feared because of his well-known harshness. And now this unprecedented order for the soldiers to break ranks and march out of formation was taken as a disciplinary act by the General against them all.

Lucius Caecilius and his ala of 500 cavalrymen were to some extent immune from this, being under his sole command—but he knew he had only so much lee-way. Unlike the soldiers of the three Legions and 6 Cohorts of Auxiliaries he had kept his men mounted together in a tight formation. He had chosen to place them near the rear of the column and was now surprised to see, bearing down on him, the mounted figure of the displaced Legatus; obviously intent on converse.

Numonius brought his horse's head round with a jerk of the reins and fell into step at Lucius's left hand. Immediately in front of the cavalry unit was a slow-moving large wagon with wide wheels, hauled by no less than eight ass's; while behind the horsemen were a raggle-taggle group of women, slaves, and many unhappy-looking legionaries carrying various bundles over their shoulders—all hunched with lowered heads against the steady rain driving into everyone's faces.

"Damned awful weather, is it not, Commander?" Vala looked over at the officer without attempting a smile; his brow wet with raindrops. "How are you managing?"

"Well enough, Legatus." Lucius was inclined to be friendly—after all, Vala had not been overly aggressive towards him in the few days he had spent with the General's army. "At least I have kept my men together! I don't understand General Varus's thinking in dispersing his soldiers through the column. Weakens his fighting capability, I'd have said. But perhaps he has some other reason?"

"He wants to keep the power in his own fist, Lucius!" Vala glanced at the young man riding by his side. "General Varus; like so many others who came to power through the Legions, knows that the soldiers are the source of strength and authority in Roman politics. Being a Governor of a large Province obviously gives great standing; but he requires the safety of knowing he still controls the army as well! So he keeps the soldiers under his own thumb!"

"And you out of a job!" Lucius eyed the able-bodied man riding beside him. "Leaving you only 6 cohorts of Auxiliaries is not the best way of showing confidence in you, eh?"

"Varus has little confidence in anyone—if by confidence you mean trust!" Vala seemed willing to talk with another cavalry officer about his grievances; especially one who had not so far had much contact with the Provincial-Governor. "General Varus trusts no-one outside Rome: and very few inside Rome, come to that!"

"Ah! He has his own agenda!" Lucius nodded knowingly. He too had experienced politicians on the make. "He goes his own way—and Hades take anyone in his way!"

"I must leave you, Lucius!" The Legatus pulled his horse sideways a little and gave the cavalryman a parting word. "I need to ride to the vanguard and see if the remnants of my Legion XIX are in anything like reasonable order! Damn Varus!"

The unhappy soldier galloped off in a cloud of earth sods, flung up by his mount's hooves. Lucius mused on what he had said. General Varus was obviously a man of determination and singleness of purpose. Whether his perceived grievances against his officers, like Vala, were weakening his military grasp was something that would have to await future events. Lucius only hoped the present march was going to be uneventful—he needed to get back to his fort and troops as soon as possible.

—OOO—

**The Army Column**

General Varus's army, like any other on a long march, was composed of several differing units. Of most importance were his military elements, made up of several Legions—the XVII, XVIII, and XIX Legions, in Varus's case—each one comprising some 5,000 men of varying service. It had to be said that none of these Legions had any previous experience of fighting against, or even occupying, a Germanic region.

Accompanying these were six further Cohorts of Auxiliary troops; each of approximately 500 men. These were not legionaries—who all had to be Roman citizens by law—but soldiers from various other Provinces or countries under Rome's rule. Their greatest numbers were made up of long-serving Iberian and Gaulish warriors, and some African natives and men from Eastern countries; though these were relatively few in number. There were also three _ala_ of 500 cavalry-men each; not counting Commander Caecilius's own _ala_.

Marching with the main force were all those people necessary to the furtherance of the smoothly-run organisation necessary to a large army. They were classed as camp-followers in a general sense; but were actually made up of servants, slaves, clerks, and kitchen-workers. Women for the kitchens and food preparation; men to look after the several hundred horses and mules, along with their fodder; clerks with all the scrolls containing information needful to the Legions' personnel and Varus's intelligence operations; and a group especially trained in pioneering new trails for a large army on the move through hostile or difficult terrain—who themselves had to have a wide range of specialised equipment, with wagons and mules to haul it.

A great many of the servants were occupied in dealing with the horses, mules, and asses which were an integral part of the motive power behind the movements of such a large force as Varus's army. And then there was the baggage-train itself.

This was, in fact, a miscellaneous group of men and women who looked after the personal equipment, stores, food, and private articles belonging to the legionaries. All these were transported on pack-mules and heavy-wheeled carts pulled by six or eight mules each—at a necessarily measured pace, especially over difficult ground such as they were now just starting to experience. Heavy carts and wagons; muddy difficult terrain; and a generally unknown winding trail; with large numbers of men and women stumbling along on foot, all compounded to make a large column like Varus's army move at a shockingly slow speed.

All this might have been acceptable, but for the fact that Varus had ordered the soldiers of his three Legions and six Cohorts to break military rank and mingle with the ordinary camp-followers. To say that discontent reigned would be underestimating the anger felt throughout the soldiers' ranks. There was a widespread feeling that this unprecedented move on the General's part was simply yet another reflection of his widely-known penchant for strictness and harsh discipline—now aimed directly at the soldiers themselves, for whatever reason. There was a great deal of muttering and swearing among the legionaries as they tramped on through the desolate countryside; not helped in any way by the steadily increasing rain and mud beneath their boots.

The fact they were free, for the moment, from tight military discipline and order allowed them to voice their resentment and anger more easily than normal. They grumbled amongst themselves; and to the variety of camp-followers they found themselves mixing with as they all walked along the rough track amongst the trees. After some initial attempts to keep the noise down most of the officers had given up and now let the men talk as they wished. So, all along the winding column of people a steady volume of sound echoed under the trees; almost rivalling that of spectators at a large Circus entertainment! Even more noise came from the variety of carts and wagons rumbling across the rough terrain, their iron-shod wheels growling on the patches of bedrock or occasional boulders as they were dragged slowly along by ass's and mules. The column was, therefore, anything but silent; the continuous sound of hundreds of voices talking at once, and the rumble of equipment, coupled with the neighing of animals created a barrage of sound that echoed widely amongst the trees. It also had another, unrealised, effect: the column made so much noise that anyone walking or riding amongst the moving mass of people had no chance of hearing anything beyond the column! The trees, bushes, and undergrowth were increasing with every stadia they penetrated further into the forest. And in those trees; even close to the edge of the people and carts, there could have been any number of unseen watchers waiting to attack with no chance of their movements being heard by anyone in the passing column!

Taken overall there was a mounting note of anger and disgust at their treatment felt by almost every soldier in the ranks. The fact that they were now past the edge of the forest proper and were starting to feel the presence of the trees more and more did not help matters. Within a short time they would be marching between serried ranks of tall trees which, though not especially thick, would still cut off all view around them. They would have no idea in which direction they were headed; nor would they have much inkling of the general environment through which they were moving. All of which began to take its toll in an increasing feeling of worry and unhappiness. It was not as yet actual fear; but it was heading slowly in that direction. And the men's thoughts were wholly fixed on the fact they blamed the inconsiderate and bullying General for their present uncomfortable conditions. The soldiers were not at present a happy band; and General Varus was not, at this moment, a revered Commander by any means!

—OOO—

**Marcus Aius**

Marcus Aius was beginning to take hope from the fact his men were marching steadily and seemed in relatively cheerful mood, given present circumstances. The young Centurion had managed to keep about one hundred soldiers, from his Cohort I of Legion XIX, together in a single group—which was against General Varus's strict orders, but he felt unable to disperse all his men amongst the camp-followers and so lose military capability altogether.

Again, once more in direct opposition to the exact meaning of General Varus's wishes, he had grouped them near the front of the marching column—somewhere close to the vanguard position, if the cohort had been in military order amongst the other members of its Legion. They presented a very poor picture of Legionary might however, being only one-eighth of the force of a normal double-strength 1st Cohort, but were better than nothing at all; as would be the case if General Varus were simply allowed to have his own way entirely. The Centurion was not a happy man though: there were too many imponderables in this mixed–up situation—not the least being what Varus might do if he discovered his orders being mis-interpreted so high-handedly.

It was with some trepidation then that he listened to the fast hoof-beats of an approaching horse coming up on his left flank. The only riders who rode at that pace were scouts, messengers, or officers of General Varus out on his business. Marcus's heart was pounding faster than normal then when the rider galloped up to rein in by his side. A quick glance told him he had nothing to fear, however, when he recognised the square features and close-cropped grey hair of Legatus Vala.

"Legatus! How goes it? Is General Varus with the centre of the column?" Marcus referred to the traditional position of the leader of an army on a march such as this. "I take it he has his personal guard around him?"

"Yes, as always!" Vala nodded as he wiped the rain from his face and adjusted his close-fitting helmet, which gave some protection from the elements. "About forty auxiliaries. Those Iberian soldiers he brought with him when he took up his Governorship just under three years ago."

"I know them—they revere him!" Marcus grunted unhappily. "They like his disciplinary nature—and the double salaries he pays them! I suppose that's one way to keep the trust of your employees!"

Legatus Vala had known the Centurion Aius for many months, and had come to respect him as a true military man. They had struck up something of a friendship and knew that what they discussed would not be spread around the camp like gossip. So they were freer with each other in conversation than, perhaps, was the norm.

"I wish he attended to the respect and trust of the ordinary legionaries as seriously!" Vala looked over at the younger man as they rode; the high back of the wagon in front of them offering some protection from the driving rain. He lowered his voice as he continued speaking. "Commander Caecilius, from the fort at Alisi, has managed to keep his entire ala around him! A man of parts, apparently! He has them stationed near the rear of the column, and seems to have an intelligent view of army tactics!"

"Well, this is the best I could salvage from Cohort I, Legatus!" Marcus turned in his saddle to indicate the group of soldiers marching behind them. "Only a small part of my full manpower; but I can't chance the General's wrath if I hold a larger group together! Have you heard anything of possible rebels in this area, Legatus! I ask because a scout I talked to a week ago, seemed to think there was some kind of build-up of natives in the region. More than normal for the time of year, that is!"

"No. But then every farmer, charcoal-burner, or village of peasants could be classified as rebels in this Province; as you know!" Vala gave a short laugh. "No-one—no-one at all—likes the presence of Rome in this Region! If we all fell into a vast hole in the ground and were never seen again they would only hold a festival in honour of whatever crude Gods they follow hereabouts!"

"Almost like being back in that God's-forsaken Britannia, Legatus!" Marcus snorted in his turn, old memories coming to the surface. "Just as much rain, mud, and danger as here!"

"You were stationed there, Aius? You have my sympathy!" The Legatus smiled himself, at his own recollections. "I spent two years in Londinium some years ago, for my sins. Gods! Even the women would take up swords and attack you like Amazons, given the least excuse! You never knew who would seize the opportunity to hack your head off next—man or woman! And you're right about the damned mud there. God, what a country! And this Province isn't much better—perhaps worse!"

"Talking of Amazons, Legatus, that scout I spoke with told me he saw a group of women whom he thought were Amazons; somewhere over to the East in the heart of the forest." Marcus stroked his chin as he brought the facts back to his mind. "Said they looked to be in military formation and rode like soldiers. He was nearly half a parasang away from them at the time, and only saw them in the far distance for a short time, through the intervening copses, as they rode across his line of sight; then they were gone, he told me!"

"Did he try to follow them? Make sure of his sighting?" Vala looked up with interest. This was an eventuality that might be significant, in their present situation. "Which direction were they headed in?"

"He didn't tell me any more, Legatus." Marcus shook his head. "I think he was too scared to try his luck that way. You know the reputation these Amazons have! Anyway, he had his orders about what he was meant to be doing—so he went on with his own business! He said they were recognisably women Amazons by the type of deerskin clothes they all wore. Their leader seemed to have blonde hair. He didn't think they were Germanic, though; but he admitted he might be wrong!"

"This could be worth bringing to the General's attention!" Vala considered for a moment then glanced across at the Centurion. "I don't think it will make General Varus change his plans; he may well laugh in your face, in fact, but you can at least salve both our consciences by letting him know! What he does with the information is entirely up to him! Will you go back and tell him? I'll stay with your soldiers meanwhile!"

"Aye, sire!" Marcus accepted the order willingly enough. He was himself interested in seeing the General's reaction to news there might be Amazon forces trailing his column. He swung his mount round to face back down the now rain-soaked line of people marching gloomily along, wiping his own face as he flicked his reins. "I'll report to you on my return. Damn this rain!"

—OOO—

In** Chapter 5** the fighting finally begins in earnest, when various sections of General Varus's army meet their opponents for the first time in head-on clashes; while Varus slowly realises that Arminius has betrayed him!

—OOO—


	5. Attack in the Forest

—OOO—

**Note on the Action:— **Nobody knows what really occurred during the prolonged fighting at Teutoburg, so I have plotted a version of my own which takes account of the known facts. Of course, with Xena's presence, my story should not be regarded as reflecting what actually happened.

This chapter, as will be most of the following chapters, is openly violent and bloodthirsty; so those of a delicate or timid nature should read no further in this story.

—OOO**—**

**Chapter 5. Day Three.**

'**Attack in the Forest'**

**The Army Column**

General Varus climbed down from the wagon fitted up as his personal vehicle where, having long expressed a keen dislike to sleeping on the hard ground, he regularly spent the nights in comfort. Another attitude which did not endear him to his officers or men.

"Damned raw morning." He looked around, at the thick patches of chill wet mist curling between the trees in the early dawn. "What's all this confusion, Ceionius? Looks like market day in a country village."

"Just everyone sorting themselves out, sir." The young Tribune felt a little as if he was the butt of all his master's grumbling; but as he was well-used to this after two years he let the General's tone pass almost un-noticed. "Remember, you ordered the column to camp where they were in the line."

"Yes-yes! No doubt!" Varus was not impressed by the quiet rebuke. "If I'd set out the usual defensive palisades and ditches for the Legions we'd have still been awake at midnight, putting the finishing touches to it. This is really nothing more than a stroll in the country, Ceionius. No need for the full panoply of military tactics against a handful of charcoal-burners, eh! Let's not become paranoid about a muddy, cold walk in the woods; which is all, when you come down to it, that this sorry journey amounts to."

"No, sir."

In the early morning mist and slight drizzle there was a great deal of noise and activity up and down the straggling line as people woke, milling around while they sorted themselves out for the coming day's trek. Many of the main company busied themselves with preparations for the first meal of the day. As was the custom in Roman society this did not consist of anything much; normally just a light snack of flour-cakes and wine; or perhaps cuts of cold meat if such was available. No fires were lit for cooking; that would come just after noon, when they stopped for one of the two main meals of the day.

"Just a couple of glasses of wine, Ceionius." General Varus waved a supercilious hand at his Tribune as he considered his own breakfast. "Nothing too heavy this early in the morning. I'll eat in the afternoon."

Within an hour they were ready once more to set out through the steadily encroaching trees. The middle and rear of the long extended column had to wait for the vanguard to start forward, then follow in their wake. But eventually all the men and women, carts, wagons, mules, asses, horses, and ponies were in motion. The column now stretched well over a parasang through the undulating countryside; with the rear having no idea what the front of the winding line was up to. There were also wide spaces developing between the various groups; some people on foot, with bags and bundles; some with carts and horses; some a mixture of civilians and soldiers: all moving at relatively different speeds. So a system seemed to naturally develop where each group went at its own pace; with sometimes a considerable area of open ground between them. The column was by no means a solid mass of people and animals moving as a single entity.

"Send some messengers along the line with instructions, Ceionius." Varus mused as he rode slowly forward, keeping a jaundiced eye on the groups of mixed legionaries and civilians nearest to him as they began the march. "Let them all go at their own pace. I know the camp-followers at the rear will probably go slower than anyone else; what with the baggage and all. If some space develops between sections as we move along during the morning, it's no big deal. Tell the messengers to watch out for lurking Amazons as they go too, ha-ha! If what the Centurion Aius told me yesterday is true, we are already surrounded by an army of them. I'm sure Legatus Vala had something to do with spreading such a ridiculous story. He appears to have Amazons constantly on his mind; what there is of it! I must make my displeasure clear to him when I see him next. At least I sent Aius away with a flea in his ear! Come, let's get moving. I want to reach those rebels in the East before they melt into the forest and disappear. Damned waste of my time if they do!"

The trees had thickened to such an extent that now the travellers found themselves, as the morning progressed, in almost constant shade. There were also few chances to catch a wide panoramic view, showing where they were in the general landscape surrounding them. Everything rapidly took on the look of an ever-similar terrain, with nothing but trees and thick undergrowth wherever the eye glanced. At the centre of this meandering column, seated uncomfortably on his grey horse and grumbling quietly at his subordinates as usual, General Varus prepared for another boring day.

—OOO—

**The Fight Begins**

"Those signal fires we thought'a using ain't goin' to work." Xena brought her gaze back from the near horizon to where she and Serilda sat their horses on a low wooded ridge. "This rain and mist looks like it's set in for the day. No chance of a fire's smoke being seen in the distance. We'll just have to hope Otrera realises what's going on when we start the attack."

By riding all through the preceding afternoon and well into the night Arminius and Xena had managed, after their successful attack on the outlying fort yesterday, to bring their triumphant force back onto the trail behind Varus's army. Braced by their first success both Arminius and his band were in excellent spirits; only Xena keeping a cautious note as they returned to make contact with Varus's column.

"It'll be some time before the effects of our attack reach Otrera." Serilda brushed a strand of brown hair from her brow. "We can send messengers, of course. She must be well over a parasang further East along the trail; possibly some way ahead of the marching line, even. But when the fleeing rearguard push forward into the centre of the army, trying to escape our attack, they'll cause enough confusion to wake the rest of the column up!"

"Yeah, then Otrera chivvies them on along the trail; before Varus has enough time to think about defensive plans." Xena nodded. "That'll help to put pressure on him. Hopefully he'll realise the best initial strategy is to move forward, away from the attacking German warriors."

As had long been planned before-hand Arminius meant to attack the very rear of the column; thus pushing those affected further on along the trail in their efforts to escape. This would put pressure on the centre of the column, making them move forward, as the only possible way of easing the strain on the embattled rear forces. The disorganised nature of the Roman legionaries would play right into Arminius's hands; allowing him to make strategic gains at little cost.

"And Varus probably won't understand the strength of the forces ranged against him yet." Serilda grinned as she sat her horse beside Xena. "By the time he realises it's a planned assault, with massive forces, he'll be in too much of a mess to do anything else but go on; trying to escape by fleeing along the trail."

"Just what Arminius wants." Xena turned her horse's head back down the low ridge, towards the group of mixed men and women warriors waiting in the shade of the trees; all equipped with swords and the lethal spears with which they were such experts. "We have a pretty fair chance of success, I think."

Xena and Serilda had spent the first of the morning hours quietly following the rear of the column as it wended its way through the ever thicker trees. While still a little watchful, Xena was nonetheless confident about the outcome of this first offensive against the column, and was preparing to lead the Germanic warriors who would be attacking from the right-hand side of the trail; while Arminius brought his forces in on the left-hand side.

Now as the sun rose high in the sky, though nothing could be seen of its orb but a whitish glow in the thick overcast cloud-cover, Xena was waiting for the first sight of flying arrows from Arminius's side of the trail before launching her own force's volley. At a certain point a spring bubbled out beneath a large boulder by the trail-side, forming a small meandering pool under the willows on the left-hand side, and extending for some distance along the edge of the trail; thus forming another hindrance to the marchers. It was here that Arminius had decided to launch the initial attack, as the rear of the column approached it.

Although cloudy, with a steady rain descending in misty swathes, the morning light still reflected from the small pond's surface in bright flickering scintillations that dazzled the eye. It was as Xena was blinking in response to one of these sharp flashes of light that she saw something else in the dull sky overhead.

For an instant it looked almost like a grey cloud skimming past at incredible speed; then it seemed to pause before descending in a scything curtain—a fusillade of arrows nearly 120 feet in breadth and so numerous they were like a monstrous flight of birds swooping low to the ground.

As Xena watched, the arrows sliced into the far side of the moving column of humans and animals. There was a sudden cloud of rising dust as the missiles hit home, then a curious pause—filled with an ominous silence. At Xena's side Serilda rose and waved a signal with upraised arm. As Xena turned to look at the forest trees behind her she was just in time to see the flight of arrows from her group as they were fired by archers well hidden in the bushy undergrowth. She actually felt the wind of their passage above her head, there were so many, and a dark shadow passed across as they soared over. Again there was a cloud of dust as they hit their targets along the extended length of the visible column—then silence once more. Neither Xena on this side of the column, nor Arminius on the far side, gave the victims any time to understand what had occurred; Xena jumped up with a scream, waving her sword over her head, and from their hiding places all along the edge of the trail rushed some three hundred German warriors with long-hafted spears: and in an instant they had engaged with the stragglers on the edge of the column in a bloody slaughter.

Arminius's forces, of equal strength, had done the same at exactly the same moment; so the individual members of the column now found themselves assaulted from both sides by bearded screaming German men, and a fair number of shrieking women, all stabbing with vicious sharp spears that seemed to slice through the Romans poor defences and cut savagely at every point.

Xena knew the German attackers were not going to use swords for close-contact fighting at this stage, but even she was amazed at how swift and precisely they used their eight-foot long spears. With her experience she instantly saw their method, which was to attack as small groups of three or four. Two would harass a defendant, while the other warrior or warriors came in behind or under the terrified victim's inadequate response. The spear blades were sharp as razors and the victim stood no chance. Xena was also impressed with the speed of attack by the Germans. Though apparently complicated the German manoeuvres were timed to perfection and Xena saw one group of three men and a woman going through the assorted Romans on the edge of the column like a cloud of locusts descending on a wheatfield. They attacked a man by feinting at his head, and while he reflexively raised hands to protect himself the woman came in underneath and skewered his belly with her blade. She twisted it savagely before jerking it free with a high scream of triumph as the group dashed forward to trap their next victim; the Roman meanwhile sinking to his knees on the ground, with blood-covered hands clutching his stomach and a look of surprise on his white face.

Xena made contact with the column and struck with her sword at a burly Roman legionary armed with the usual standard gladius. Caught by surprise, and faced with the female warrior's determined ruthless attack, the man hardly had time to register his opponent before he was lying on the ground with a wide chest wound spouting gouts of dark blood, his spirit already on its way to Charon's ferry on the Styx. Jumping forward Xena came up against two men, one a legionary, who stood together for protection. She yelled loudly and crashed her weapon through the legionary's defence with ease, cutting deeply into the side of his head and knocking him over like a puppet. Ducking low she swivelled on her hip with one foot slightly extended and sliced round with her sword; catching the other man on his left hip, biting deeply into flesh. As he fell sideways to the ground Xena rose smoothly and ran forward again, but along the edge of the straggling column, not into its midst.

The other German warriors were doing the same; snapping and biting at the perimeter of the column on both sides: carrying out numerous harassing assaults against the unprepared scores of men, and women, making up the now thoroughly terrified defendants. Knocking to the ground with a blow of her sword-hilt a legionary who was making some headway in retaliating against his attackers, Xena again screamed and sliced at another two men who appeared in front of her. Neither were in uniform, but had gladius's at the ready; not that these gave any chance of survival for them. Xena slashed her first opponent's sword aside with ridiculous ease and swept her own weapon round to catch him in the base of the throat; jumping sideways to confront the second man as a stream of hot dark blood splashed over her face, almost blinding her for a second. Without wasting a moment she cut at the man's chest, seeing her blade penetrate a handspan before she dragged it out and ducked under a feeble response that was hardly more than a weak wave of the man's gladius. Xena struck twice more, both times at his unprotected stomach; the first blow sliding into soft flesh at an angle and her second blow firmly thrust right into his lower belly: she feeling the grating as her sword-tip hit the back of his pelvic bone. She ripped the sword out with a sideways slice and leapt away to find other victim's while he fell to the ground, screaming agonisingly at the awful consequences of the wound Xena had given him.

All along the edge of the now wavering column German warriors, men and women, were engaged in what they had planned and thirsted for over the last several months. Finally faced with their despised enemies, at such a disadvantage, the warriors were taking sweet and merciless revenge for years of oppression. Xena saw a woman warrior facing a Roman legionary who threatened her with his gladius; she feinted at his head with the full eight foot length of her spear; then, as he impulsively raised his sword high, reached to her waist with one hand and taking a dagger from her belt threw it unerringly at his chest. It embedded itself to the hilt in his lower ribs, but before he barely realised what had happened she darted forward and impaled him under his breast-bone with the blade of her spear. Shouting something loudly in her native tongue she ripped her weapon free with ease and ran on along the line, grinning widely: the legionary meanwhile standing motionless for a moment, apparently paralysed as thick streams of blood poured from his chest, before falling backwards like a toppled statue.

"Nice work." Xena was impressed with the cold ruthlessness of the German woman warrior. "I like her!"

A great deal of noise was now audible along the length of this section of the column; which was showing signs of breaking up into separate clusters of fighting masses. Xena could also see various single individuals and small groups of Romans running for cover in the bushes and trees, but was not bothered about this. She knew the German back-up reserves stationed all along the trail would wipe them up without trouble.

There was a considerable amount of dust rising into the air from both sides of the besieged line of Romans, causing some difficulty in distinguishing a wide view of events. Xena ran a few yards forward and found herself splashing ankle-deep in the shallow pond running along one side of the trail; its surface now defaced by several bleeding bodies which had already turned the once crystal clear water a dull hideous crimson.

Before Xena could glance around to locate Serilda she was suddenly aware of three legionaries in front of her. One was truly massive, easily overtopping her in height, and built like a Minoan bull; while his two companions were only a trifle less physically endowed. Xena grinned savagely with bared teeth and crouched before her attackers; this was her native element and she felt that invigorating rush of something in her blood that made her almost scream in ecstasy at the coming fight. With a slicing motion of her sword she stepped towards the first huge man, impatient for the clash.

"Come on, ya bastard. Come an' get it!"

—OOO—

This fight will continue in Chapter Five Part Two, coming shortly.

—OOO—


End file.
